My Own
by Missteque
Summary: After many years of spite and hate, the fates of Severus and Harry entwine...whether they like it or not. From foe to family...will they ever be able to cope with Lily's decision? No slash. Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

**My Own, Chapter 1:**

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, therefore I do not own any of the characters, and considering how many times the plot has been used, probably not even the plot!**

**3rd person POV:**

The potions class sat down as their professor barked for silence from his desk. The potions professor, Severus Snape, was considered cruel and heartless by both the students and the teachers. Nobody knows of his past, what inspires him to be such a git. Only Dumbledore knows.

Suddenly the door banged open and Harry Potter ran through the door, his hair sticking up in every direction.

"Sorry I'm late, Sir." Harry said, not really meaning it. Why would he apologize for being late to the worst person in the world?

"10 points from Gryffindor for your absence and noisy entrance." Professor Snape declared, smirking satisfactorily. All of the Slytherins snickered.

"What! I was only a minute late!" Harry retorted.

"A minute is a minute of my time that is lost!" Snape yelled, his amusement replaced instantly by annoyance.

"I'm sorry, I forgot you brewed potions every minute of your life – explains why your so bloody uptight; potions is probably the only love you know!" Harry retorted in rage.

"ENOUGH! 30 points from Gryffindor!" Snape yelled. Harry was about to open his mouth again but received an elbow in his ribs.

"Shut up, mate. We won't have any points left if you keep it up!" Ron said, frustrated. Harry pulled out a chair from underneath the desk and sat on it.

"5 points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, for talking out of line." Snape said, watching the Potter gang with a twist of weariness and hate.

"Bloody greasy git." Ron cursed under his breath.

"Now, I know that it is hard for some of you to concentrate at all" Snape said purposely looking at Harry. "But all your concentration will be needed for today's potion: Polyjuice. Begin." He said as he waved his wand at the black board and instructions suddenly appeared. As the students set to work, Severus sat down at his desk marking work.

"Fools." He mutters. "How can anyone not know the true properties and purposes of a bezoar?" Snape muses. As Severus continued abusing the stupidity of students, Harry, Ron and Hermione were abusing the cruelness of their potions professor

"I'd hate to be his kid." Ron says in disgust, making Harry grin.

"Yeah, imagine that. 'What's your father do?' a kid will ask. 'My dad is a grumpy death-eater who fantasizes about potions!' you'd have to say!" Harry said in a mocking voice, causing Ron to burst out laughing.

"Bloody brilliant!" Ron complimented, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Oh, seriously you two, you need to grow up." Hermione said with a slight smile on her face. "At least we all agree that Snape is the last person you'd want to be related to." Hermione reasoned, bottling up her potion so she could finish it later. She then turned to Ron's cauldron to help turn the bubbly pink substance into its normal grey.

"Honestly, it's a wonder you don't fail." Hermione scolded.

"Thanks a ton Hermione." Ron said clapping her on her back.

As all the students went to their dormitories, Severus went to his private rooms in the dungeons. It was his one sanctuary; he was isolated from everyone. The way he liked it. As he sat down on his leather chair, he began to think of how many ways he could give detention to students –Potter being number 1 target- but his thoughts were interrupted when a Phoenix feather floated in the air down into his lap. Leaping up from his chair, he grabbed his black cloak and ran the thousands of stairs up to the Headmasters' office.

"Lemon Sherbet." He said panting form running to the Headmaster's office.

"Headmaster, what is the urgent matter?" Severus asked, finally reaching the office. Dumbledore sat there with his head in his hands, not speaking.

"Well?" Severus asked, getting impatient. Dumbledore took a big breath.

"I recently took a sample of Harry's hair to the Healers and requested it be tested for everything…and I just got back his DNA results." Dumbledore said softly, still not believing what he was about to say.

"And what do I care? He's Potter's son!" Severus said angrily, thinking of how Lily ran off with James, not him.

"Well, that's the thing. He isn't James' son." Dumbledore said with a slight smile, unable to help but smile at the many paths of love. "He is your son."

Severus did not reply, but fainted.

Harry Potter – Potter – was his son…?

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Dumbledore walked over to Severus and levitated his body into a chair. As Snape came to his senses, Dumbledore summoned a glass of water. As he greedily drank the water he couldn't feel the water touch the sides of his throat.

"Impossible. You liar." Severus spat as soon as he could find his voice, his anger flaring. "How dare you take advantage of me like that!"

"Severus, I am just as surprised as you are. I never knew that you and Lily…" Albus trailed off. Severus' stomach rolled at the sound of her name. Severus closed his eyes against the emotions and breathed deeply. He knew it was wrong to be so angry at Albus; it was himself he hated.

"What do I do?" Severus asked in a hushed tone.

"Well." Albus considered. "I would recommend telling the boy. Harry has lived his life without parents, after James and Lily died – "  
"DON'T! DON'T SAY IT!" Severus yelled, jumping up from his chair, shaking furiously. His face more pale then usual, his hair all over his face, his eyes violent, Severus was livid. Albus was overwhelmed with sympathy for the Potions master.

"He looks like bloody James, not me! I HATE POTTER!" Severus screamed in rage.

"Severus, I believe Lily put a charm over him; a charm which only you can lift. And you only hate him _because_ he looks like James. The boy isn't a bad person." Dumbledore reasoned. The words calmed Severus somewhat, but he was still shaking.

"He is arrogant, ignorant and disrespectful." Severus said, his voice thick with malice.

"In your eyes. Severus, he has more of Lily in him then you see. Maybe that is because you don't want to see it though?" Albus suggested. Sighing, Severus sank back into the chair with his hands covering his face.

"Can you give me a few days to gather my thoughts and decide whether I will tell him?" Severus asked in a soft, weak voice.

"Of course. You may borrow the pensive to sort through your thoughts." Dumbledore said sympathetically. He stood up from his chair and went over to take the pensieve. As he sat it on his desk, Severus stood up.

"I know that Lily would want you to take care of her son." Albus advised his hand on Severus' shoulder. Without any acknowledgment, Severus picked up the pensieve and walked to the door with a breaking heart. "She never stopped loving you." Albus said quietly as Severus left the room.

Walking down the hallways, Severus had no energy to yell or scowl at the students walking around after curfew. He didn't even have the energy to frown. Finally reaching his apartment, Severus flung open the door and locked it behind him. He walked into his bedroom and set the pensieve upon his double-bed. He pulled out a draw of his desk and grabbed a bunch of phials. Sitting down on the bed, he poured all but one phial into the pensieve. Swirling the memories around, he took the plunge and put his head through. He was searching his memories. He opened up every memory in his quest of finding it, even though he knew he was making it more painful having to see everything he tried.

-Him and Lily at the park

-Him and Lily at Hogwarts

-Him and Lily laughing at a joke

-Him and Lily studying

-Him and Lily as they shared their first kiss.

Then he found the memory of the best and worst night of his life.

// //

It was Christmas night and both Lily and Severus stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays. Hand in hand, Severus led Lily to the astronomy tower where he had set up a picnic. There was a blanket surrounded by rose petals and a lone candle. On the corner of the blanket was a basket of food which took him all night to prepare.

Severus led Lily over to the blanket and sat down with her. She smiled at him and then played with his hands, not looking up again. Hoping he hadn't disappointed her in some way, he lifted her head with his hand and realized she was crying. He immediately grabbed her small body and put her in his lap, cuddling her.  
"What's the matter Lily?" Severus asked his girlfriend. She sniffed, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"It's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me." Lily said, with tears still pouring down her face. Severus knew that this wasn't the only reason she was crying, but he didn't press the matter. He bent his face towards hers, and lightly kissed her lips. "Merry Christmas." He said lovingly.

Lily replied by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with everything she had. Passion overcame them and soon they were both lying under the blanket naked, embracing each other tightly. For a while, they both marvelled at the starry sky above them, before Lily turned her head to look at Severus. Her head was resting on his pale chest, her red hair mixing with his black hair.  
"Merry Christmas." She whispered, kissing him again. This kiss was different from the rest; it was slow, loving. Every movement deliberate. It was a kiss which made your stomach knot up. After more love-making, they fell asleep, their bodies entangled harmoniously. And Severus fell asleep as the happiest man alive. Why was that his best and worst memory? Because it was the best day of his life, but it was since that day that everything went wrong.

// //

Then the memory switched to the one he really didn't want to see.

_// //_

"Where's Lily?" Severus frantically asked Mary McDonald.

"I told you – she's sick!" Mary said, exasperated. It had been weeks since Severus had seen Lily; ever since school started again. They had made love a few nights after Christmas, so he knew he couldn't have been that bad at it. Lily had started feeling ill though, and by the time school started again, she didn't leave her dormitory. This worried Severus to no end. Finally, after a few more days, Lily appeared, looking pale and frail for the Defense against the Dark Arts exam.

_// //_

Severus pulled his head out of the penseive, unable to watch anymore. He knew all too well what happened next: He called her a mudblood by accident, she didn't talk to him, 7 months later she married Potter and had a child, while he joined Voldemort and then –effectively- killed her..

Gasping from the pain in his heart, Severus leant against the pensieve and cried. Tears streamed across his pale face as his heart tore into shreds as he remembered and relived all that ever happened. He never understood why she left without saying anything, why she stopped loving him after all he did for her. But those thoughts hurt him more, and so he picked up the last phial and poured it down his throat. The Draught of the Living Dead potion worked instantly and Severus fell asleep, still in his robes, his body draped across the pensive. Unfortunately, the Draught of the Living Dead potion does not prevent tears, and so as he slept, Severus cried.

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Meanwhile, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room talking about endless nonsense.

"Yes Ron, muggle brooms are for sweeping not flying." Hermione says, rolling her eyes at the sheer stupidity.

"Mental, they all are." Ron said shaking his head. "Oi, Harry, your getting worse then Hermione with this homework stuff!" Ron commented to Harry who was busy rewriting his transfiguration essay.

"I know. Lately I've just been feeling like I …want to. Want to strive and be the best I can possibly be." Harry finished lamely. Hermione beamed at him, but Ron frowned.

"Well, I guess a bit of Quidditch tomorrow will cheer you up!" Ron said enthusiastically, earning a grin from Harry.  
Little did anyone know that from that night onwards, a little part of Harry was unlocked and would alter his future forever.

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**_Hope you enjoyed that chapter. For future reference, this is just a project that is sort of on the back burner. I may not update for a matter of days or matter of months, and am not sure how far I will go with the story. Most of my time is currently going into my other story, BitterSweet. But, I will try and acomplish as much as possible with this story!_**

**_Also, my writing in this story isn't the way I normally write, so I hope I haven't let anyone down too much!_**

**_If you have any questions/comments please do not hesitate to ask! I will promptly reply :)_**

**_Please read and review! It makes me happy and motivated to write more :D  
Tons of thanks,_**

**_Missteque._**


	2. Chapter 2

**My Own, Chapter Two:**

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling therefore I own none of the characters, and not even the story line considering how much it is used! **

**3rd Person Point of View:**

Severus slept through his alarm and only woke up because of the thunderous sound of the Slytherin students going to breakfast. Sitting up from his position over the pensive, he tried to stretch but his robes were all stiff. Grumbling, he stood up and made his way into the bathroom. His head hurt like as if he had a hangover and Severus wondered what on earth he did the night before. Suddenly, all of the last night's memories flooded into his head, making it hurt more. He grasped the sink for support and took deep breaths to help clear his head of the memories. Looking up into the mirror, Severus was shocked by what he saw; his hair was sticking up in every area, his face was deathly white and sad. But worst of all, his eyes held tears. Ever since Lily died, he had never seen himself in such a state. He turned the tap on and washed his face, trying to avoid thinking about his personal life. With a scowl he remembered that he had to teach classes today – like that was what he needed. He walked into the main room, with his wand in hand.

"Expecto Patronum." He cast. Shooting out of his wand, a beautiful doe appeared, emotionally making the wound in his heart bigger.

"I, Severus Tobias Snape, ask for permission to be excused from all classes today." He said aloud, staring purposefully at the doe. With the flick of a wand, the doe leapt gracefully through the door with his message. This would be the first day Severus ever took off, if he was excused. Emotionally drained, he walked over to a lone table and called for a kitchen elf.

"What would you like sir?" Fluffy asked.

"Strong black coffee with two sugars and – " Severus' deep voice was interrupted by a knock on the door. Standing up, he went to open the door but the visitor let himself in. Severus moaned inwardly as the figure of Albus Dumbledore stepped into the room.

"I would love a peppermint tea, thank you Fluffy." Dumbledore requested, seating himself on a couch opposite Severus. Severus just stared blankly at the headmaster, not really registering anything. The sound of apparition broke Severus from his trance and he sat down with his head in his hands. Silence began to fill the air.

"After all this time?" Albus asked, with tears in his eyes. He knew Severus knew what he meant.

"Always." Severus replied, his voice hoarse yet quiet and hushed. Albus leaned into the chair as sympathy once again took over him. Not once in over 14 years had Albus ever heard Snape confess emotions of any kind, least of all an undying love. He had no idea that Severus was capable of such depth.

"You have my permission to be excused." Dumbledore declared, his voice unusually aged. A crack signaled that the house elf was back and the two men took their drinks, murmuring thanks. As Severus drank, Albus scrutinized his face through his half-moon spectacles. More pale then usual, shallow cheekbones, stress marks across his face and greasy hair made Dumbledore wonder whether Severus would ever recover (although the greasy hair isn't new). Silence again filled the room, and Albus began to feel as though he was somehow intruding some sort of grieving process.

"Alas, I must go. Take as long as you need, Severus." Albus said, putting a comforting hand on Severus' shoulder. Severus just nodded in acknowledgement and sat quietly as Dumbledore left.

Not caring about the time, he stood up and went to lie down in bed, where the thoughts he tried to keep at bay flooded his mind.

'Where did I go wrong? Didn't she know how much I loved her? Does she know I still do? Why did she never tell me that I had a son? Why, why did she marry Potter?' He thought as he curled up into a ball under the sheets. 'I have always loved her. I still do. But I want nothing to do with Harry Potter. _Potter_. He has James' last name, not to mention his looks. How am I meant to face the replica of the person who destroyed me? What on earth does Lily expect? Harry is an arrogant, disrespectful, trouble making bastard just like his father. Ha. I could never be the boy's father. It can't be right.' He continued to think.

And all though he was thinking of his hatred of Harry, he was truly thinking of Lily. How much he loved her, prized her; treasured her. Severus loved her so much, that it actually hurt. And for one of the rare moments in his life where he didn't have to hide his emotions, Severus Snape cried himself to sleep for the second time, with only one question remaining: Why?

* * *

As Snape went through a mental breakdown, the school (oblivious to their snarky Potions' masters' state) enjoyed a lovely game of Quidditch: a promising game between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Harry had just finished putting his seeker robes on when Ron walked in with Fred and George.

"Nervous Harry?" Ron asked, wearily watching the twins swinging around their Beater bats. Harry chuckled.

"Not really. I know what to expect from Slytherins: foul play and violence. I guess that's why we have two brilliant Beaters…" Harry commented dryly. Ron snorted.

"Just be sure to give send an extra Bludger Malfoy's way! I just can't stand seeing his smug little face held high…" Ron encouraged.

"We'll be sure to do that!" Fred and George said in unison, appearing suddenly either side of Ron. Harry grinned at them, but before he could say anything, Professor McGonagall walked into the room, staring purposefully at her Quidditch team…particularly the Beaters.

"Be sure to do what, Mr. and Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall asked, looking at the twins with a stern expression (but slight smile). The twins just smile innocently back, making McGonagall roll her eyes.

"Now, I don't want any foul play from any of you, but please try your hardest. It would do Professor Snape's ego the world a good if they lose…"McGonagall comments slyly before backing out of the quarters, her robes swaying behind her.

"I better go and find Hermione so we can get a good spot for the match." Ron said, patting Harry on the back and heading out the doorway. Harry breathed in deeply and fixed his glasses on straight, before grabbing his Firebolt and heading out the other way.

As the whistle signaled, the Gryffindor team rose in the air and disappeared as they sped around the field positioning themselves. The Slytherins – being Slytherins – calculated Gryffindor's moves and followed their players so they appeared to know what they were doing.

"And the Quaffle is passed from Angelina Johnson to Alicia Spinnet and – oh no! Flint has taken possession of the Quaffle and is racing towards Wood, but wait! Angelina comes in at 2 o'clock and captures the Quaffle…she swerves in and out…SHE SCORES! 10 points to Gryffindor! Trust Angelina Johnson to save the day!" Lee Jordan commentates, his voice booming across the field. The crowd roars and chants as their teams fly past; Slytherin's crowd considerably smaller as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw support Gryffindor.

Suddenly, the Golden boy, Harry Potter, pulls his Firebolt into a steep dive, and then quickly rises back up into the air spiraling with his hand outstretched.

"And it looks like Harry Potter has found the Snitch!" Lee exclaims in delight. At these words, Draco Malfoy goes speeding by, following Harry's lead and chasing the Snitch. As they keep their eyes peeled on the Snitch, the boys come nose to nose, neck to neck, as they both fight for the golden Snitch.

"And surely, it will be Harry Potter of Gryffindor who catches the Snitch!" Lee Jordan predicts, earning a slight smirk from Professor McGonagall and a rowdy cheer from the supporting houses.

Confidently reaching forward, his body stretched and millimeters ahead of Draco, Harry takes the plunge for the Snitch. His hands miss and all the extra weight on the front of the broom causes him to clumsily fall. Terrified screams erupt from the crowd as Harry crashes to the ground.  
"Oh no! Harry Potter has fallen from his broom!" Lee yells, looking like he was about to jump from the commentators' stall to help. All the students supporting Gryffindor flooded onto the field, trying to see if Harry is alive - Hermione and Ron pushing to the front of the crowd - but Dumbledore was the first to get to him.

"Harry. Harry. What is Hagrid's hippogriff named?" Albus whispers quickly, (for only Harry to hear) as he takes Harry's pulse.

"Buckbeak." Harry wheezes, wincing. Albus sat him upright and the crowd was relieved to see him alive. Hermione and Ron came forward to be by Dumbledore and Harry, both with worried expressions on their faces.

"I believe Madam Pomfrey is in order." Albus states simply. Ron runs off to fetch her, and almost immediately, Madam Pomfrey appears.

"He needs to be taken to the hospital wing." She states with one look. Dumbledore picks Harry up gently to take him away to the hospital ward, with Hermione and Ron following closely at his heels.

Just as Dumbledore, Harry and majority of the school leave the field, Draco catches the Snitch (Slytherin continued the game, un-phased and uncaring).

"And Draco catches the Snitch…woo hoo for Slytherin…" Lee remarks sarcastically as he jumps down from the stall to join the others.

After examination and a good dose of medicine, Madam Pomfrey draws the curtains around Harry's bed and turns to Dumbledore. She had to vacate the whole ward of his admirers, and now with the students in bed and no Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley to listen by the infirmary door, it was only Dumbledore left.

"He has two broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and the possibility of internal bleeding. I have a few tricks up my sleeve which should make him good to go in a few days." Pomfrey declares, standing beside Dumbledore. "Mind you, I think his pride is the most damaged." She comments slyly, trying to get a reaction out of Dumbledore. Albus remains standing with a frown and Madam Pomfrey walks away, exasperated.

"Severus will have to hear about this." Albus mutters to himself, unaware that Harry had heard what he said…

* * *

_**Hello all!**_

_**I am surprised how long it's taken me to write this, and I do apologize. However, I have been extremely busy with my main story, BitterSweet, which is currently at it's 14th chapter. **_

_**This chapter has taken 5 drafts to get to this stage, and I am no where near 100% happy, however I am so sick of going bed everynight to reread it over and over again! Depending on the reviews (If you guys do/not like it) I will change it accordingly. I hope that you will excuse any left over grammar mistakes/spelling mistakes, I'm almost at the point of insanity!**_

_**I thank you all for all the support you have given me. Please feel free to ask any questions, give comments and ideas! I will answer to them all. Please also review! I LOVE REVIEWS! I swear they make the world go round! Even if you don't like this chapter, please send a review/message saying why so I know. **_

**_Please also feel free to check out my other story, BitterSweet!_**

_**I hope you have enjoyed the chapter, and that you all have an extraordinary Christmas!**_

_**Love**_

_**Angela (Missteque).**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**My Own, Chapter Three.**_

_**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, therefore I own none of the characters and considering how often this plot has been used, nor the plot!**_

_**Previously:**__ "Severus will have to hear about this." Albus mutters to himself, unaware that Harry had heard what he said…_

_**3rd Person Point Of View:**_

Severus had spent a whole two days drowning himself in his self-pity. He didn't have one shower. He didn't eat (although he had several cups of coffee). He didn't even go to the toilet. By the third day, he was over moping around – after all, it didn't achieve anything. But, after the days of endless battles in his head, he only came to one conclusion: Harry is James' replica, and he doesn't deserve to know or be treated any different. Sure, he loves Lily. 'But she can't expect me to take care of that boy." He thought.

Eventually, he heaved himself from the bed and had a shower, cleaning himself up a little and changing into fresh robes. Just as he exited the bathroom, Albus Dumbledore walked through the door unannounced. Severus looked at the man with unjustified hate.

"I have some news." Dumbledore announced, in a strained voice. Severus gestured him to sit and as Albus cleared the seat of old coffee mugs, Severus spoke.

"And?" He asked, expecting something serious considering Dumbledore's facial expression.

"And" Said Dumbledore, sitting down, "Harry has been injured: two broken ribs, a fractured wrist and a bit of internal bleeding. Nothing Poppy can't fix, though."

"Why should I care?" Severus spat. Dumbledore sat taken aback at his reaction. Albus was tempted to say 'because he is your son', but refrained. It shocked Albus to see Severus go from grieving and crying to anguish and hate.

"He fell during the Quidditch match against Slytherin." Albus hinted. Severus despised the fact that he (as the Slytherin head) wasn't excited by their defeat of Harry - but he despised the fact that a jolt of anxiety shot through him for Potter more. Dumbledore sighed deeply.

"Severus, you may not want to hear this but I have no choice but to tell you. I have been watching Harry for the past few weeks and I have seen his stamina, personality and enthusiasm fade. You know as well as I that flying is Harry's greatest skill and yet he clumsily fell on Friday's match. He has treated his friends distantly and I can't help but feel that Lily has put a spell on him to keep up his appearance (and personality) like James'…the spell is therefore fading and Harry is losing himself as your personality shines through him more."

"But that is just a theory. It's sounding to me that he is James' son after all! And do you mean to say that I am un-coordinate and friendless?" Severus snapped, deeply offended.

"Take it the way you want Severus. But the Boy Who Lived is our only chance of defeating Voldemort. And the only way to keep him strong, I believe, is for you to tell him you're his father so he knows why he's changing. And, of course, so he is aware he has family left." Dumbledore concluded, with his theory and conclusion making no sense at all.

"He is James' son! He is the worst person in the world – just like his father James!" Severus shouted, spit flying everywhere. Dumbledore began to loose his cool at Severus' immature attitude.

"You only see in the boy what you want to see. Harry has more of Lily then you. He has more of Lily's traits then James'. He is sweet and gentle…with your temper. He has her eyes. How dare you call him those names? How dare you curse the boy so?" Dumbledore questioned, bewildered.

"How do I know that you have been telling the truth the whole time? And are you so blinded and inconsiderate to come in here to tell me that my so-called son's life is being wrecked because he is becoming more like me? I have made my mind up, and I will not tell him for he is no son of mine!" Severus yelled. Dumbledore knew a dismissal when he saw one.

"As long as you try to open your mind to see that he is Lily's boy as well yours, instead of denying it. I will owl you the DNA tests within the next few days, so you can have no doubt left in your mind." Dumbledore replied softly, getting up from the chair. Once the door clicked closed, Severus stood up and kicked the chair, ignoring the pain in his foot. Why is it that life was so much more complicated for him then everyone else? And since when did his world revolve around Harry Potter!?

As Dumbledore walked off to his office, frustrated, he thought of how he wouldn't be surprised if Snape stomped his foot – after all he has been acting immaturely. Albus couldn't help but wonder whether the years of being a contained teenager were coming back, as if the teenager inside him needs to be released. Sighing, he mumbled 'Sherbet Lemon' and as he sat down at his desk he couldn't help but feel that Snape was extremely insecure and for once, Snape doesn't know what to do, hence his attitude.

"How much homework have I missed out on?" Harry asked Hermione as they walked back from breakfast.

"Well…there are two Transfiguration essays, two charms to learn, one lengthy Potions essay and three Defence essays." Hermione listed, using her fingers to help.

"Blimey! I didn't realize we had that much homework!" Ron exclaimed, shocked.

"I have told you all week what homework we had." Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes dismissively.

"How long have I been in the infirmary for?" Harry asked curiously.

"7 days. You have been there since last Friday, mate." Ron replied, the three of them stopping at the Gryffindor entrance.

"Polyjuice." Hermione said, waiting for the portrait door to open. With a slight gruff the door opened and the trio walked in, sitting on the chairs surrounding the fire.  
"Snape's been acting weird lately. Just not his usual git-self." Ron comments aloud, looking into the fire.

"He has been acting weird. Not only did he miss three days of Potions lessons, but he looks like as if he has two people inside him – he has extreme mood swings…" Hermione mentions, looking at Harry and Ron.

"Hermione, seriously, Snape is Snape. He can only be a painful, over-emotional greasy git who thinks he's the bees' knees! He can't possibly feel anything more then that!" Ron states. Harry laughed at Ron's choice of words.

"Either way, we must get going. We have Transfiguration then Potions." Hermione said, gathering her books and walking over to the portrait hole.

"Come on!" She ushered. The two boys followed her to their Transfiguration class, all three of them trying to help Ron write a few last-minute notes on his essays.

"Mr. Potter, could you please stay behind?" Professor McGonagall asked when the class was dismissed. Harry put his books down on the table and turned to Hermione and Ron who were waiting for him.

"You go on without me, I'll catch up soon." Harry calls out to them. They nod and leave for the dungeons as McGonagall clears her throat.

"Now, Harry, I hope you are aware of the fact that there were two Transfiguration essays due today, and that I am strict about deadlines." She said, drawing her robes about her waiting for a credible excuse she was sure to get from Harry.

"I am sorry, I had only heard that we had the essays today - I've been in the hospital wing the whole time." Harry said. McGonagall's expression softened.

"I was aware of that, I suppose." McGonagall reasoned, sighing. "But Harry, as much as I would love to tell you that you not to bother with the essays, I need them as soon as possible for your report." She said. Harry started to panic – he hadn't realized it was nearly the end of term.

"I-I will do them tonight and hand them to you tomorrow!" Harry replied hopefully. McGonagall's face seemed shocked; after all, she had expected Harry to bargain for a few weeks' lenience as per usual.

"Well, that would be good. But don't strain yourself; we don't need you spending another week in the infirmary Harry." McGonagall said in a soft voice. Nodding, Harry turned for the door but he just had to ask the question which had been bugging him all week.

"So when do we play for the championships?"

"Harry, I am so sorry to tell you, but we lost the match to Slytherin. Hadn't anyone told you?" McGonagall asked. Harry's body went into shock – this is the second time he had ever lost, and with the purchase of his Firebolt, he was guaranteed to never lose again.

"What! No wonder no one told me when I asked!" Harry yelled, forgetting to keep his temper in check around teachers. Instead of getting angry (like she ought to), McGonagall felt sorry for one of her favourite Gryffindor students.

"You may not remember, but when you were being taken to the infirmary, Draco Malfoy caught the Snitch."

"What about the rest of the team? How many points did we have when he caught it?"

"The players immediately stopped playing the game to come to be with you." McGonagall said, proud of her Gryffindor team. Harry (despite feeling disappointed) felt overwhelmed with emotions at the thought of the team stopping to comfort him instead of securing their place in the championships. All was silent for a while until McGonagall reminded Harry that he had another class. Excusing himself, he ran from the quadrangle down into the dungeons, hoping that Snape wasn't in a foul mood.

'I will slowly open the door and sneak to the first seat.' Harry thought, wincing as he walked because of the pain in his torso.

Snape had just sat down after walking around to see the students attempting to complete their work. Unlike the entrance he had hoped for, Harry accidently slammed the door open causing a few potion flasks to fall and shatter. The whole class turned their heads to Harry then to Snape, whose face went deathly white and still. After a few minutes silence, Harry decided to sit down and Snape controlled himself and spoke.

"30 points from Gryffindor for rude intrusion, disruption and utter disregard for school property." Snape said, his voice deep and menacing. "Stay after class, Mr. Potter." Snape said. Hermione, Ron and Neville turned around to face Harry at the back of the class with sympathetic glances. The rest of Gryffindor cursed Harry for losing points, while Slytherin snickered, once again revelling in Snape's hate of the boy.

After a particularly difficult potion's lesson (Snape was in a worse mood then normal and took to picking on Harry more), the students practically ran out of the doors to escape the potion's room and avoiding more homework. As Gryffindor ran out of the room they dodged the broken flasks that were still on the ground, unlike Slytherin who stomped on the glass in the hope Harry had to clean it.

Alone, Snape loathingly looked at the boy before him ignoring the voice inside his head that reminded him Harry is his son. 'You don't know for sure.' He told himself.

"Potter. Why were you so late to my class? Is it because you are just naturally unpunctual or do you take pleasure in disturbing my class?" Snape sneered. Harry took a deep breath, determined not to bite the bait.

"Sorry, Sir. I was held up by Professor McGonagall." Harry said simply.

"Why, then, did you feel the need to slam the door open, hence breaking school property?" Snape urged, enthusiastic for a reaction from Harry.

"Sir, I am still tender from my fall and I happened to be juggling my books in one arm. I'll try to clean it up." Harry said, trying to not wince while keeping his temper in check, but was failing miserably.

"And why – "

"WHY WHAT!?" Harry shouted, fed up and angry. "Why do I breathe so fast? Or why do I walk with one foot after the other?" He yelled, flinging his arms in the air similarly to the way Lily used to when she was angry, Snape realized subconsciously. Snape smirked smugly.

"I was going to actually ask why you aren't wearing a brace of some type but your questions are much more intriguing." Snape said, letting his words hang in the air. Harry groaned aloud at the confusion of the potion masters' moods. Snape took a step forward, eyeing his pupil with disdain and hurt as he looked deep into Lily's eyes.

"I believe you haven't handed in your potion's essay?" Snape inquired, his voice deep. Harry gulped, suddenly worried about his Potions' report.  
"No sir, I have been – "

"I did not ask for an excuse!" Snape exclaimed. "To make up for your lack of…ability, I want you to produce 5 potions from the medium section of your textbook in your own time." He said, fully aware of Harry's tight schedule.

"Where do I make them?" Harry asked in a defeated tone. Snape just stared at Harry – he had been expecting a bit more fight from Potter.

"Aren't you going to complain?" Snape blurted out before he could stop it.

"I've given up – you are too much to handle." Harry mumbled, fully aware Snape had heard. Snape ignored the comment and took one long look at the boy with messy hair and his hate was rekindled.

"Due in two weeks. You can procure them here; the Potions labs will be open. When your done leave the potions on my desk, clearly labelled." Snape said in a dismissive tone. Nodding with a little "Yes Sir", Harry turned and walked over to the broken phials, about to bend down. Snape quickly conjured a vanishing charm and got rid of the broken glass before Harry bent down.

"I will deal with it this time Potter, but you better not let me catch you breaking anymore school property or you will be cleaning it up in any method Mr. Filch chooses." Snape warned, trying to erase the memory of his random act of kindness.

"Yes Sir." Harry muttered.

"And Potter, go to the infirmary for a brace – I will check with Madam Pomfrey to make sure you went." Snape said as he turned around and looked at something on his desk. Harry simply nodded quietly as he left the room. Once the door shut, Severus felt a pang of sympathy for the boy – he had undeservingly received a hard task and Severus knew it.

"Damn you Potter, for being so much like your mother." He said, speaking about his change in emotion. He didn't even realize what he had said. Packing up the pile of homework-marking, he walked to his apartments and laid on the bed, thinking about Lily. She always made him feel comfortable enough to express his emotions. Ever since he lost her, he had only a short variety of emotions that he ever felt. What were they? The typical Melancholy emotions, as Lily would call it. Anger, hurt, sadness, depression, hate and doubt. It is all he has ever felt since Lily left him, but he couldn't deny the fact that now he was feeling so much more…and deep inside him he new it was because of Harry. His mood swings and random acts of kindness were proof, as if a part of him has reopened, he thought. Thinking, he started to doze off until a light tap on the door woke him up. As he sat up, Madam Pomfrey walked through the door.

"Severus Tobias Snape, I am disappointed in you."

_

* * *

_

Hello everybody!

_Thank you all so much for your reviews, they mean alot to me. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter._

_Please, if you have any questions or comments, please review or PM me and I will reply promptly!_

_For all my BitterSweet readers, I will update in the next few days; I'm getting there!_

_I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas and a great New Year - I certainly did and have had guests until yesterday,  
hence my lack of updating!_

_Now, why is Madam Pomfrey disappointed with Severus? What's with Snape's mood swings? What's with Dumbledore's outlook? What's wrong with fuzzy monkeys? Read and Review to find out (though I can't promise to reveal the secret of fuzzy monkeys)._

_All my love,_

_Angela (Missteque)._


	4. Chapter 4

**My Own : Chapter 4.**

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling hence own none of the characters etc. etc.**

**3rd Person POV:**

Severus got up from the bed and attempted to clean the place a little, all the while Madam Pomfrey stood in the same position with her hands on her hips and her foot tapping.

"Severus, you cannot pretend to ignore me or the reason I am here." Madam Pomfrey stated, watching Severus collect then recollect his belongings in a mad attempt to clean up. Despite her anger, Poppy Pomfrey felt sorry for Severus. She knew from all her regular visits to his apartments (and his visits to the infirmary) that he is usually an organized man. Instead of seeing the room perfectly neat and clean, the bed remained unmade, chairs toppled over, coffee mugs and books scattered across the floor and a spider web or three in the corners of the roof. She walked over to Severus (who was bent over something) and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Severus, how about we talk about it? Come, sit down." Poppy said softly, trying to calm the obviously distressed Severus down. After spending so much time with the ill-treated teenager, she had the ability to recognize him when he was in a traumatic state. She guided Severus over to one of the chairs and sat him down, then sat opposite him. After ordering a few pumpkin-juices from a house elf, she turned to Severus.

"What's the matter, dear?" She asks caringly, staring into Severus' blank eyes. Of all the people she had ever had to work with, Severus was the hardest yet most rewarding.

"Nothing." He replies, snapping out of his trance and composing himself. Poppy sighs.  
"You and I both know that is a lie. Now tell me the truth young man." Severus moans.

"Nothing! Now what did you want to see me about?" Severus retorts, getting unnecessarily angry. Hurt by the way Severus had treated her and remembering why she was there in the first place, Poppy's mood swiftly changed from patience to anger

"You know well what. You send Mr. Potter in from your class requesting he get a brace – and rightly so – but then you give the boy homework whereby he must strain himself to make high-class potions during his busy schedule! If you give an ounce of care for his well-being and mental state, how could you treat him like that?" Poppy rants, as if scolding a teenage boy (which in many ways, she was). Snape quickly comes to the defense.

"That boy deserves it, he broke several rules, didn't finish his homework and is constantly…" he trailed off.

"Constantly what, Severus?"

"He is rude and complains unnecessarily, trying to get attention. Just like James –"

"James Potter? Do you base all analysis of Harry on his father, James?" Poppy fumes, thinking of how she thought she had taught Severus better. Severus had an unexplainable look on his face.

"Poppy…all I am trying to say is that you are blowing this all out of proportion. So Harry wears a brace and has to complete a few potions in his own time…" Severus shrugs off, trying to squirm out of Poppy's wrath.

"You and I both know that isn't wholly correct. The poor boy got sentenced homework because couldn't complete the set task and he happened to break a few rules - both due to his injuries!" Poppy yells, getting angrier. She hated when others jeopardized the health of students. "How many times have you done the exact same thing as Harry – worse in some cases- for the exact same reasons? Not once were you punished like you are punishing Harry! I wonder what Dumbledore would say!" She said as she flung her arms into the air and stood up.

"It's no big deal…" Snape says, staring moodily at Poppy. This is what she had wanted to hear. Poppy's face changed from anger to smugness.

"Well, Professor Snape, if it is no big deal then I am ordering you to supervise Harry when he is making potions to ensure he doesn't further hurt himself." Poppy declares, sitting down and smiling smugly. Severus just stared at her with his mouth open.

"But I have no idea when he will make them – it is during _his_ free time!" He retorts.  
"You'll work something out." She replies, straightening out her dress.

"But…but it's his homework, not mine!"

"Oh don't you dare call it homework mister! Harry happened to tell me exactly what happened and we both know that it is more of a 'detention for no good reason' then homework! I do not know why, but you have a nasty habit of targeting the poor boy unjustly, and of all people I thought it'd never be you." Severus sighed, knowing full well she was right but unwilling to admit it. Her disappointment in him only fueled the disappointment in himself.

"Poppy, I have a full-blown schedule and I cannot babysit a student, lest of all one who has to complete several potions. Potter is an amateur Potions' maker and it'll take him the rest of the term to complete the task!" Snape shouts, not realizing he just contradicted himself. But by the time Severus stopped arguing, Poppy was already out of the chair and walking to the door.

"No big deal." She replies, quoting Severus, before turning and leaving. Severus sat back, annoyed and frustrated. A note appeared out of nowhere after several minutes, and he grabbed the piece of parchment as it floated gently from the air.

_'I, Madam Poppy Pomfrey (of Infirmary), hereby declare that Professor Severus Tobias Snape (of Potions) supervise, cares, helps and tutors Harry James Potter (student) through-out the whole term, whenever Harry creates a potion._

_Signed, Albus Dumbledore and Poppy Pomfrey.'_

Severus groaned at his foolish actions which led to the consequence of the letter. The house elf appeared and Severus skulled both juices without a second gulp.

"Great. Like I need another excuse to be closer to Harry." Snape mumbled as he heaved himself up from the chair to go visit the Headmaster.

_

* * *

_

Meanwhile…

Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, moodily eating his food as Ron and Hermione came and sat down either side of him.

"Looks like Snape's disappeared." Ron remarked with glee as he stuffed his plate full of food.

"He probably turned into a bat and flew off." Harry retorted, clearly angry. "Good riddance."

"Couldn't have said it better myself mate!" Ron praised, slapping Harry on the back as he took a large bite from a piece of toast.

"How about we go visit Hagrid before lessons begin? He isn't in the hall…" Hermione asks randomly, sensing Harry's frustration.

"Yeah! Haven't seen him in a while!" Ron said enthusiastically.

"Sure." Harry replied, glad to be getting away from the main castle for once. Harry and Hermione immediately stood up and began to leave the hall (having eaten already), when a distressed Ron yelled out.

"We're leaving now? I haven't finished my breakfast!" He yelled, as he grabbed a glass and gulped down pumpkin juice, causing a bunch of Gryffindor girls giggled at him.

"Ron, you have time to stuff your face and your gut later, now come on!" Hermione said, getting unnecessarily irritated at Ron's laziness. Grumpily getting up, Ron walked over to the pair with several cakes in his arms.

Harry laughed.

"What? I thought I might get hungry for the trip!" Ron defended as the trio walked out of the Great Hall to Hagrid's Hut. But by the time they got to the Hut, Ron hadn't eaten one cake as he was busily engaged in an argument with Hermione; an argument which he stupidly began.

"So how many times have you snogged Viktor?" Ron asked randomly, but with a burning curiosity. His voice echoed down the deserted bridge. Hermione stopped in her tracks and stared at Ron in disbelief as he kept on walking.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said: how many times have you snogged Viktor!" Ron asked, getting frustrated and embarrassed at having to repeat the question.

"What does that matter to you, Ronald? Since when did my snogging history ever concern you?" Hermione retorted, walking briskly across the bridge and ahead of the two boys.

"Well –I-I have a right as one of your friends to know!" He said, rushing up to walk at the same pace as Hermione. Hermione sighed.

"It could have been once, it could have been a dozen but – "

"So you have snogged him!" Ron cried, assuming the worst. Hermione blushed.

"Come on Ron! You cannot have told me you haven't snogged somebody at least once!" Hermione retorted in a desperate attempt to drive the attention away from her.

Ron didn't reply but blushed intensely. Both Ron and Hermione were mumbling under their breath, and taking every stride in anger. Harry just walked quietly from a few metres behind, inwardly laughing at the situation. Wasn't it just too obvious? To Harry, it was like telling the difference between a hippogriff and a dragon!

Eventually they reached Hagrid's hut. With two members of the group dead silent and facing separate ways, Harry had to reach up and rap his hand against the door. They could hear a clattering of metal and then big thumps as their friend grew closer to the door.

"'Ello Harry, Hermione, Ron! 'Aven't seen yer for a while!" Hagrid boomed as he opened the door, beaming at the students. "Come in come in…don't mind the mess…Fang has been at me bed again…" Hagrid said as he stood beside the door to let them in. The threes students walked in, warily noticing patches of straw spread across the floor. They sat down around Hagrid's table as Hagrid boiled the kettle. Ron was taking the cakes out of his arms and setting them on the table, ready to devour them. He picked one up just as Hagrid turned around.

"Aw how 'ovely of yer Ron to bring cakes fer me! Didn't 'xpect it one bit. Nicest thing anyone has ever done fer me." Hagrid said, albeit tearily as he took all the cakes (including the one in Ron's hand) and began to eat them, much to Ron's horror. Despite previous tensions, Hermione and Harry laughed at Ron's expression. After a little grumble, Ron's humor kicked in and they all laughed as all was immediately forgiven: it was as if a bag was lifted of their shoulders. Hagrid looked confused as he continued to eat the cakes. Once he brushed off the crumbs from his beard he quickly ran over to the stove to grab the kettle, remembering he hadn't yet served his guests.

"So what've yer all been doing?" Hagrid asked after he poured the tea and sat down. Harry started picking at the wooden splints in the table.  
"The usual, school work." Hermione answered as she gently raises her cup to her lips.

"Yeah." Ron piped up. 'Lot's of homework now – I swear the teachers are trying to kill me with brain overload." Ron remarked.

"Ron, it wouldn't take much." Hermione slyly commented. Ron frowned but the comment went unheard by Hagrid as he was too busy trying to decipher Harry's expression. Hagrid had always had a special spot for Harry – the boy whom he retrieved from the house wreckage at Godric's Hollow to hand over to Dumbledore – and it greatly angered him to see Harry obviously troubled.

"What's the matter Harry?" He asked. Harry didn't resist the temptation to talk.

"I'll tell you what the matter is. Snape gave me a homework task of 5 medium potions to be made in my own time!" Harry fumed.

"Is that bad?" Hagrid questioned.

"Is that bad? The bloody monster gave me the task despite the fact that I am severely injured and have a busy schedule! I haven't got the time to make medium-class potions!" He yelled, feeling extremely mistreated. Ron gave Hermione the wide-eyed look, signaling Harry had lost the plot.

"Well, yer never know…I am sure he had a reasonable excuse…I guess yer didn't do yer homework…" Hagrid reasoned, trying not to bad-mouth a fellow professor. This, however, was the last thing Harry wanted to hear.

"That bloody bastard gave me extra hard potions because I accidently broke a few potion flasks in class because of my injuries! It isn't fair that it is always me!" He yelled, standing up. Hagrid felt torn between defending Snape and encouraging Harry. In the end, he settled for both.

"Yer know Harry, Snape is only doing his job. Too bad he isn't doing a good job!" Hagrid said in attempt to lighten Harry's mood. Harry snickered at the bad joke and resolved, decided he would not let Snape ruin his day.

As they all sat and talked, every body was in a good humor; Harry had calmed down, Hagrid was Hagrid and Hermione and Ron weren't even quarreling. Eventually, however, as conversation topics became scarce, Ron brought up a touchy subject for both parties, his curiosity unscathed.

"Did y'know Hermione has snogged Viktor?" Ron asked aloud, avoiding Hermione's immediate glare. Harry spat out half his drink in laughter, Hermione sat silently, Ron sat albeit irritated and Hagrid with a strange twinkle in his eye as he laughed heartily.

Guess some things can't be let go.

* * *

_Hello everyone!_

_Sorry that it has taken so long to update. I had actually lost my last draft of this story which had the final editings, and when I find it i'll update it. I just figured since I finally have time to breathe I should post something!_

_Life is still treating me harshly, some days are better then others, but I'm pushing through and getting there. Among many things, I found that I am extremely low in iron, which makes everything a lot worse, so I am now taking an iron supplement._

_I really hope I can update quicker, but as I mentioned in my Author's note in BitterSweet, life has been a bit difficult. I am so sorry._

_And thank you to every single one of you for your lovely words - you have no idea how much they've helped. Honestly, those comments are the only light in my world at times. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart._

_On a lighter note, I hope you've enjoyed the above story - despite any mistakes - and that I've left you looking forward to the next! Please read and review, even if you have suggestions on how to improve the story, or questions. All comments are greatly appreciated!_

_Hope you are all having a lovely weekend - I look forward to sleeping in!_

_All my love, _

_Angela (Missteque)._


	5. Chapter 5

**_My Own, Chapter 5:_**

**_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling hence do not own any of the characters, etc. etc._**

**3rd Person POV:**

What is a man to do? He had always loved Lily; he gave her all he had. But, compared to Potter, he obviously wasn't worthy of loving Lily. Did Lily truly expect him to watch her, the love of his life, love his enemy? And furthermore, did she ever expect him to care and love her son? The son of the sole reason he lost her in the first place?

It was those questions which Severus answered by joining the ranks of Voldemort. He wasn't sure he could ever have his questions answered, and wondered whether he could of handled the answers anyway. It was among the ranks of Voldemort that he was admired, worshipped, even perhaps desired. He let his hate, anger and greed for love blind him to the cruel realities of Voldemort's workings. And as time went on, his naïve beliefs that his workings as a Death Eater could cure him of his love for Lily proved wrong, for the hole in his heart grew bigger, manifesting itself until he could no longer bare it.

"I want a 2 foot long essay due on Friday." Severus announced to his potion class, and with satisfaction he listened to their groans. "It is more of a punishment for me then you, considering I have to read your work." He said, as if it was somehow meant to comfort them. He watched the little third years sulk as they left. Somewhat satisfied, Severs sunk down into his desk chair and took up marking his fifth years' work.

"Gryffindor: Troll. Slytherin: Excellent. Ravenclaw…." Snape muttered as he neatly marked either a big cross, or a big tick. It was his own little chant – rarely did any Gryffindor show any exceptional skill, besides Hermione. Just as he was getting into the rhythm of marking, a house elf suddenly appeared, and before a word could pass Severus' lips, he and the elf had apparated to an unused classroom. Slightly disorientated by the sudden movement, in the few seconds it took for Snape to realize what had happened, the elf disappeared. Grumbling, Severus turned around to investigate the room, wand in hand. The room was strangely familiar. It had a thick blanket of dust that covered every surface in the room, making it unrecognizable. Severus was moving towards a particular part of the room when an unwanted voice asked: "Professor Snape, what are you doing here?"

Snape twirled around to see Harry standing by a long table, a few phials and other materials scattered everywhere, with his wand in hand.

"You – er –Don't ask me questions! Now tell me Mr. Potter, why do you have your wand drawn?" He sneered at the teenager. Harry looked straight into Severus' eyes in irritation.

"I was preparing to defend myself if need be." He replied, using Severus' formal wording mockingly. Severus knew he would have praised a Slytherin for such an excuse, and he unconsciously decided that it was a characteristic which he himself had: Always have wand at the ready; always be prepared for a fight. Severus just 'humphd' as he walked a few metres in the opposite direction of Harry. Silence drew upon them, as neither one wanted to talk to the other. Eventually, the situation became awkward. Severus stood and watched Harry produce a range of things from his bag, and it was only when he brought a cauldron to the table and began to pour ingredients that Snape realized what was happening.

"What are you doing?" He questioned skeptically.

"Creating potions." Harry retorted, embarrassed and nervous to have Snape watching. As Harry began to study his Potions' book, Snape moved further away and leaned against the wall, not saying anything else, warily watching Harry as he created whatever potion he was attempting. He kept a noticeable distance from Harry, and Harry began to get sick of the tension that the silence emphasized.

"Professor, why are you here?" Harry repeated, refusing to show any sign of resilience. He felt as though he was cheated the privilege of being able to work alone because Snape was there. He worked better without the forever-dark presence of Professor Severus Snape. Severus struggled for an answer, eventually settling for the truth.

"I have unfortunately been ordered to supervise you as you create all your extra potions, which considering your current pace, will take the next millennium." Severus replied, feeling the need to add an insult.

"I don't need a baby-sitter." Harry remarked as he tried to collect more ingredients out of his bag. Snape merely shrugged, watching has Harry bent down to pick up his bag. Despite being conscious of Snape's glare, and trying not to show any sign of pain, Harry couldn't help but wince as his muscles contracted. Severus tried to ignore Harry as much as possible by scrutinizing the room, which he couldn't exactly remember, much to his utter frustration. With Snape distracted, Harry could concentrate better. He had barely enough time to interpret the instructions after adding an eye of a goose and stirring twice in an anti-clockwise motion, when the bell signaled the end of lunch. As if released from a jail cell, Severus strode quickly out of the room. "Finally." He muttered as he exited the room.

"It's not like you have anything better to be doing, you greasy git." Harry spat at him, clearing up the mess he had created. Harry was greatly frustrated that he had managed to make more of a mess, rather then more progress with the potion. He practically achieved nothing, and so with the glooming prospect of spending the potion-making time with none other then Snape, with homework deadlines in three weeks, the loss of potentially winning the quidditch cup and his body being in pain from the injuries, when Ron and Hermione started bickering, Harry lost his temper.

It was just after supper, and majority of the Gryffindors had gone to their dorms. They were all sitting around the fire, Neville, Ginny and Hermione on the lounge and Harry and Ron sat on separate seats.

"So how is everything going with you and Dean, Ginny?" Hermione asked Ginny conversationally.

"Oh they're just brilliant – I seem them in every corner snogging each other's faces off!" Ron answered. Ginny's face flushed in both anger and embarrassment.

"Well, at least somebody here is getting some affection!" She retorted, standing up before exiting the room to her dorm.

"Yeah well maybe I have! Maybe I've snogged hundreds of girls!" Ron yelled out after her, his eyes briefly flickering to Hermione's face.

"Ron, you are the only one who hasn't been snogged! Harry snogged Cho, Viktor snogged Hermione and I snogged Dean – you are the only one left out!" Ginny yelled, suddenly appearing atop the dorm staircase. Ron's anger swiftly focuses on Hermione, and he stands up.

"So she knew that you kissed Viktor before me?" He questioned Hermione, sounding hurt. He took a few steps towards her. Hermione blushed furiously.

"It's more complicated then that, Ronald." Hermione reasoned.

"Complicated? What's bloody complicated about telling your best friend?" He asked, slightly hysterical.

"Ron, you are blowing this out of proportion-"

"Am I? Am I really? Or do you just prefer to talk to your books and my little sis –"

"Oh for goodness sake you two –SHUT UP!" Harry yelled, getting up from his chair and leaving the common room.

Resentful, he began walking around the castle. Harry felt confused and angry that no body could understand. As if he didn't have enough issues with trying to get through school in one piece, but the only two people who he feels comfortable with talking to are too busy concentrating on their feuds with each other, which leaves Harry without somebody to talk to. And it is during these periods of time that Harry feels alone, as if he is left with the burden of saving the world from a powerful enemy while other teenagers his age worry about their love interests and exams! Why is it that the Chosen One has no body to talk to? No mother to hold him against to and comfort, no father to talk to and give advice? Must he really face the world alone? Why him?

Harry continues to walk about the castle with these thoughts in his head and he feels his anger mount and mount. All it would take is one squeak from a mouse to make Harry explode, but as he walks down the mysterious hallways, not a sound or soul is to be found. When Harry reaches the transfiguration quad, he realized that it was late night if not early morning, and that the castle would be asleep. Feeling tired, Harry sat down in the middle of the quad, basking in the moonlight, thinking. He has officially failed a game of quidditch, he has extra potions' homework, he has stitches in his side, and Snape is constantly watching him. It took but a few seconds for Harry's anger to focus on the latter, and in that second, Harry was reminded of the fact that Snape had been ordered to supervise him whenever he makes potions. With that knowledge, Harry planned how he was going to give Snape hell, as payback for all he ever did to him and his father.

With the thought of finally getting revenge on Snape for all of those years of pain he had been through, Harry got up from his little spot on the grass. The clock chimed thrice as Harry walked himself to his dormitory to retrieve his potions gear, and begin his homework.

Severus had barely recognized that he had been apparated through his sleep, the only evidence that he in fact was not in his apartments was the hard surface he was lying on, and the smell of crushed lacewing flies and maggot's heads, stewed in a cauldron at 62 degrees (all of which was immediately identified by Severus). Alarmed, he awoke from his sleep, registering the cold stone beneath his fingertips, and a beam of moonlight from outside shining on a student with very messy hair. As he righted his robes, it took no time to recognize the student, and even less time to realize why he was there.

"Mr. Potter are you aware that it is early morning?" Snape asked, obviously irritated, rubbing his face. Harry stirred four times in one direction, two times in the opposite direction, then crushed a suspicious substance before entering it into the cauldron.

"Yes, sir. Specifically 3.30 am." Harry answered shortly.

"It is forbidden for a student to be out of bed – " Snape began, but was cut off by Harry.

"Not without a teacher. I believe that you are a teacher and are present, or else I am Lord Voldemort himself!"

"Don't you dare say that name." Snape hissed. He was never a morning person.

"Considering I am the one who has to kill him and all, I think I have the bloody right out of everybody to call him what I like." Harry replied, keeping his gaze steadily on the cauldron, his rage nicely controlled. Once again, Severus was lost for words, and he angrily paced about the room, determined not to let Potter get the better of him.

The next school day, Severus was exhausted and getting angrier by the second. He always hated being put into awkward situations – and watching your least favourite student – and newly found son- attempt to brew potions (sometimes at 3.30 in the morning) certainly fit Severus' idea of awkward. And he certainly didn't like it. Not. One. Bit.

* * *

_Hi Everyone!_

_Again, I am sorry it's taken so long to update this story. I hope that you guys have enjoyed it, and if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to message me and I shall promptly reply. _

_I haven't edited this chapter very well, mainly because I am a bit over editing at the moment, for I have been constantly editing my BitterSweet story, (and am only half way through that), and have completed editing the few chapters of My Own. I will update the edited versions later on, with an authors note to let you know that it's changed slightly._

_I hope you are all having a wonderful week,_

_Please read and review - your reviews show encouragement and love to the writer!_

_Love Missteque._

_PS: What did you guys think of the Harry Potter: Half Blood Prince movie? _


	6. Chapter 6

My Own, Chapter 6.

**_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling hence do not own any of the characters etc. etc._**

**_Third Person POV:_**

With only a week left of school, the students of Hogwarts felt many things at once: anxiety, excitedness, stress, sadness, happiness and for most (particularly the teachers), relief. As a result, the hallways, classrooms, common rooms and Great Hall were filled with a more constant flow of chatter then usual, their general gossip topics heightened by their excitedness for the holidays. With only a week left, there were many old rumors still lurking about (like the fact that Nearly Headless Nick joined the headless club, which for the reader's record, he didn't), however, there were newly created rumors, which had a bit more truth in them. One of the students claimed that he saw a gargoyle wink at him, and there was also a rumor flying about of how Trelawney and Filch were seen in an unsuspecting Quidditch broom closet, however, the other rumor which had also been circulating was about Snape, and regarding his behavior. (It is believed by some students that he is a hermaphrodite because his moods seem to be caused by PMS). But furthermore, the majority of Hogwarts has been shocked by the fact that Professor Snape, for the last week, hadn't assigned a single set of work; a feat that was once considered impossible by both students and fellow professors. But while no one else knew as to what had changed Snape, Harry knew exactly.

After his second 'nightly' session in a row (this time at roughly 1.47 am), Severus had come to expect Harry to create potions at night, or rather, in the early hours of the morning. Determined not to let him win, Severus slept in his day robes so he would be fully prepared whenever Harry wished to call on him, so he wasn't disadvantaged. Severus, to make up for the lack of sleep, drank coffee, still determined not to break. By the third day, Severus looked as pale as possible, had dark, deep shadows under his eyes as well as bags. Despite the multitude of coffee, Severus still yawned every few minutes and would lazily drag his body wherever it needed to go. Harry, young and fit, managed to make up for the lack of sleep during his Divination classes, but even then, Harry was wearing out.

Despite it all, Harry couldn't help but admire Severus. It was obvious to both Harry and Severus what Harry was trying to achieve, but Severus remained adamant that he wouldn't break. As could perhaps be expected, Severus was moodier then usual, as well as overly paranoid. Practically anything that moved got either a snide, sharp remark or a detention, usually justified by Severus as committing some fault, but reality was that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and rather then any other professor roaming the hallways at that time, it had to be Severus. One could expect that the homework levels would rise to a length greater then Dumbledore (or Merlin's) beard, but instead, there was no homework at all. Worked down mentally and physically with only a combination of coffee, hate and anger flowing through his veins, Severus knew that he wouldn't have the energy or the time to correct any homework, but moreover…he just couldn't be bothered.

While Snape was struggling to keep up with his normal routine, Harry was being worshipped not just by Gryffindor, but also by all the other houses (although not so much of Slytherin). There was a general assumption among the students that if anything could affect their cold-hearted Professor, it had to be Harry, the Chosen One. After all, only Harry was treated extra unfairly by Snape (with the exception of Neville, but no one expected anything brave of Neville). Only Harry would stand up and defy him. This was all the convincing the mob needed – Harry was their savior. As a result, he was once again popular, constantly swamped by 'friends'. The attention made Harry's ego grow, and he was happy and more determined to continue what he was doing, however there was a major obstacle: he himself was now getting tired; the inability to break away from the crowd to relax was having a toll on him.

And so, with only a week to go, everything was intensified. Harry, despite having all of those early-morning sessions, actually didn't get much done; he was so determined to keep Snape awake that he inevitably grew tired himself and made many mistakes with the potions. His injury, without having much time to heal, was actually getting worse as the strings began to tug at his tender, raw skin. Yet, determined, Harry refused to show any sign of weakness to Severus. As a result, Harry still had two more potions to brew.

The 6th years had their last Hogsmeade trip for the term and so there were massive groups of students bulk-buying lollies from Honeydukes, stocking up for the holidays. While Hermione went into the store to search for gifts for some cousins, Ron and Harry sat outside, neither having money to spend nor wanting to be in an overly crowded room. Ron started to talk about the holidays and how Charlie was expected to make it back for the holidays when he realized that Harry was practically sleeping.

"Harry, are you alright?" He asked, gently nudging Harry. Harry's lightly closed eyes fluttered open.

"Yeah, I'm alright, just a bit tired I ''spose."

"I've been noticing you've been tired for a while…what's happening?" Ron asked, concerned. Harry heaved a big sigh.

"It's just … school, homework, and Snape. I don't know why, Ron, but lately I've been sort of obsessed with my grades, and as I have become more tired because of Snape, my grades are failing even through I'm trying so hard. I-I just don't understand how others can be so…perfect, and get such perfect scores. Basically, in short, I'm sick of being tired, and tired of being sick. I'm so over bloody school work." Harry ranted. Understanding his frustration, Ron, rather then tease or mock, just listened to Harry.  
"How is that thing with Snape going, anyway?" Ron questioned. Harry breathed another sigh, as if that small puff of exhaled air ridded his body of its burdens.

"Well, he's bloody exhausted, but I've still got two potions to go…I can't be bothered."

"Harry, I know I'll be sounding like Hermione and all, and while it is great to see Snape humbled, you need to make sure you're ok. Snape isn't worth the trouble of getting tired and sick." Ron advised, in a low voice. The boys stood up from their seat as Hermione approached them.

"Thanks, mate." Harry responded quietly as they walked with Hermione the Three Broomsticks. Ron eagerly followed Hermione while Harry slugged behind them.

Meanwhile…

Severus, in the couple hours of peace granted by the absence of the 6th years, found himself lying on his bed, wide-awake. Over-exhaustion hadn't only depleted his appetite, but also did not allow him to sleep; he was almost hyperactive. His thoughts didn't stray from the fundamentals of his life (school, Harry, Lily, sleep). The more he thought about Harry, the more agitated he got. His legs started to wobble as a sign of restlessness, and fed up with the prospect of no sleep, he got out of bed and walked. He was too tired to care where he was going, happy it was a slight distraction for his head. He walked through out the dungeons, and constantly found himself drawn outside. He walked over to the side of the lake and sat under a large beech tree, much to the shock of on looking students. His pallor, which was paler then usual, startled and frightened students as it contrasted with his dark features; Severus looked like the living dead. He didn't care though, he barely registered their glances, and he barely heard their gasps of fright or giggles of gossip. He felt as though his mind was completely disconnected from his body. Both of these separate parts of him were deprived of many things. His body of food, water and substance, his mind of sanity and freshness. Nonetheless, the only thing keeping Severus was sheer determination to prove the victor over Harry Potter. And, this was all anyone could see upon looking into his dark eyes: determination.

At 2.30 in the morning, Harry grabbed his Potions work and dragged it to the deserted classroom, wondering how he could continue going on this way. As he began setting out his materials, Snape apparated into the room fully dressed. Not a sound was emitted from either the student or teacher. Snape just wandered off and sat down in a corner, watching Harry. He could still not work out why the room was so familiar to him, or why he was drawn to this particular part of the room. Resigned, he watched Harry as he worked at his potions. As he watched, he couldn't help but to notice that Harry was better at Potions then he gave him credit for. It wasn't necessarily Harry's ability to interpret the instructions and to add the correct ingredients, but rather, how he prepared and added them. While pouring a substance, Harry kept the flask a certain distance away from the cauldron, tilted it at a certain angle, and prepared the ingredients in a certain way which make the potions more accurate and which made Severus note how similar Harry is to Lily (although it should be noted that this was an unconscious thought). Nonetheless, it is fair to say that Severus was intrigued by Harry's potion-making skill level. He got up from his seat on the ground and walked over to Harry's working spot to better watch his processes. Harry wasn't aware of Snape for he was too wrapped up in what he was doing. Besides the actual process of making the potions, Harry had another prominent thought in his head, which was sleep. Harry was methodically stirring the cauldron while trying to reach out to grab and ingredient. "

"One thing at once, Potter, or else you'll ruin." Snape advised, without any emotion. Both of them were beyond registering. Harry recorrected himself and continued on, the minutes ticking by. Eventually, the potion had reached a stable stage and Harry was released from his frantic stupor. Severus watched Harry's treatment of the potion, and started reminiscing about Lily, staring into the distance, until Harry broke his reverie with a cough.

"Night." He muttered, exiting the classroom. Despite hating Snape, Harry felt too rude to say nothing.

"Night, Potter." Snape replied, embarrassed, having realized he daydreamed in front of Harry. He gave one last look at the familiar room before exiting into the darkness of night.

* * *

Before anyone inhabiting Hogwarts could realize, it was the second last day of the term. Hermione was preparing to visit her parents who were holidaying in Australia, Ron wasn't preparing for going home and Harry was stressing. Although it would seem that at the time his holidays couldn't get any worse, somehow they always did, hence Harry wasn't looking forward to weeks of legal torture which he was certain would be worse then last holidays.

Harry had a bad night's sleep, tossing and turning, unable to stop the flow of thoughts despite his being exhausted. He thought of how unfair it was that he was tired, that Snape was his teacher that the entire world (both Wizard and Muggle) depended on him for their freedom and safety from Voldemort, but most of all he was upset about his Quidditch injury. What was more important to Harry was not the injury itself –for he has suffered from physical wounds before – but rather that he had no one to heal his wound, or at least to tell him it would all be alright. That assurance from parents, which makes many children feel at ease from even the darkest of thoughts, is an assurance many take for granted. And so, in the last few minutes before sleep eventually took over the parentless Potter, he thought of his parents. The images of Lily and James, gathered by his earliest memories and a collection of photos, appeared from behind his eye lids. He saw his mother's loving smile, her brilliant eyes and his father's smile, matched with the ruffled hair. A few tears tumbled unconsciously down his face, tiredness making him vulnerable to his raw emotions. He wished for the millionth time that he wasn't the Chosen One, but just Harry Potter, the boy who had parents. He thought of his father and wondered what he would do in Harry's situation. He knew that James would keep going; show no sign of resilience, show no sign of weakness. And as far as regarding his issue with Snape, Harry knew that James would have done the same, and that gave Harry a little pride; after all, he wanted to be just as courageous as his father and make him proud.

In the morning, the sun filtered through the glass panes and into the Gryffindor Common Rooms. The boys in Harry's dormitory slowly rose, taking a few minutes to adjust to the light in the room before changing into their robes.  
"Harry, wake up." Seamus called out to Harry as he put on his shoes. No reply came from Harry.  
"Harry, c'mon mate, wake up." Ron said, chucking his pajamas at Harry's bed, but still had no response. Ron drew back the curtains to see a very pale Harry. Worried, Ron started to shake him. After a few more nudges, Harry's eyes opened slowly.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked. Harry didn't reply but sat upright, ruffling his hair. "You looked like as though you weren't going to wake up."  
Harry murmured a soft "sorry" while lifting himself out of bed. He felt as though his side in his stomach had been punctured with a knife; the stitches were not working. Ron worriedly at the expression on Harry's face.  
"I think I might go get McGonagall, Harry." Ron said, reaching for the door.

"Don't bother Ron – I am fine. Really. I just need a bit of breakfast." Harry assured. Hardly convinced but too scared of the prospect of seeing McGonagall in her pajamas again, Ron consented and followed a slow Harry to the Great Hall.

Harry managed to finish his Transfiguration assignments and when he handed them in, McGonagall had such a perplexed expression at Harry's ghastly appearance that she was unable to speak. How had the Chosen One, the Golden Boy, the Snitch Seeker, Gryffindor student and more importantly the cheeky Harry Potter changed so much? Since when did he complete work by the deadline, and why is he still looking so sick? She had noticed that Harry hasn't been well in the last week, and this was the confirmation she needed to take action.

At the end of the day, Professor McGonagall made her way to Dumbledore's office to warn him of Harry's strange behavior. She stopped briefly at the entrance to his office as she told the gargoyle the password. Dumbledore was, rather then in his worn out seat, looking deeply into his pensieve. He was so entranced by whichever memory he was viewing that he hadn't noticed Minerva's entrance. Minerva waited for the Headmaster patiently while watching him. She couldn't help but notice his sad expression, and was convinced that she saw a tear drop into the unknown depths of the pensieve. Yet, when Albus turned around, there were no marks of redness that are usually left by tears – in fact, no trace of sadness, so much so that one could believe he had never before been sad. He gently smiled at her as he walked to his desk before sitting in his chair, gesturing for McGonagall to sit as well.

"How can I help you today, Minerva? Gummy Bear?" He offered pleasantly. Minerva kindly rejected. "I can understand your initial aversion to them – they are a muggle sweet, however, I found that once I had gotten over the notion of a 'gummy bear', I quite enjoyed them. Nonetheless, I believe that you didn't come here to talk about Muggle sweets, did you my dear friend?" asked Dumbledore.

"No, I am afraid the matter is a little more serious, regarding the health of one of our students."

"Which student?"

"Harry Potter." She answered, checking Albus' expression before continuing on. "He has become increasingly detached from the other Hogwarts students, and he looks as though he hasn't had a good night's sleep for two weeks! He looks not only miserable but dreadfully ill, Albus. We have to do something." She explained, exasperated. She loved Harry in such a maternal way that it was similar to a mother's love, although less intense. Albus' facial expressions visibly saddened.

"I'm afraid we cannot do anything, Minerva." He replied.

"What! What do you mean by that, Albus?" She asked in horror.

"He is under the care of Severus."

"Severus! Under the care of Severus! No wonder Harry has been acting like this! What are you thinking Albus?" She asked, her voice steadily becoming louder, her Scottish accent becoming more obvious.

"I trust Severus Snape." Dumbledore answered in such a way that it completely ended their heated discussion. Visibly frustrated, Minerva gathered her robes up about her and got up from her chair.

"Good day, Albus." She mumbled, turning to leave. Just before she exited the room, Albus called out.  
"Good day, Minerva. And so you know, things with Harry will improve, they just need time. I wouldn't let him get hurt." He said.

"I know." Minerva whispered as she went down the steps, confused with Dumbledore's manner, and concerned for Harry.

_

* * *

_

In Snape's world, this is what had occured:

The day was finishing up, the students walked leisurely back to the Common Rooms before preparing to eat, and the teachers did whatever they wished. Severus began wondering to a room which had been prominent in his thoughts of Lily. He found himself in front of that peculiar yet familiar room which Harry used to create the potions. He walked into the still-dusty room but this time, rather then being dim, it was filled with light, and Severus could see everything from the upturned table and chairs to his previous footsteps which were marked by the dust on the floor. His mind obviously did not register the setting, nonetheless his body did, and he began walking to the corner of the room. He sat down on the floor in the same corner as the other night, but the difference this time was that he could see, and as he looked around his position on the floor, he couldn't help but see a deep inscription on the wooden barrier:

_L.E (L) S.S _. Severus stared at the carving, dumbstruck, before leaping up and running to Dumbledore's office. He found the Headmaster observing his collection of odd things when he walked in.  
"Ah, Severus! What can I do for you?" Albus asked pleasantly.

"I need to view my memories, please." Severus chocked out. Albus stared at his employee and without hesitation retrieved the pensieve and memories which he had preserved for Severus' sanity (under the condition that Dumbledore not view them). Severus took the pensieve and memories to the corner of the room, too weak to carry it to his rooms and to tired to care. He poured the white, wispy substance in before plunging his head through to the past.

--/--

Lily and Severus were sitting in the corner of the room, hand in hand while watching Flitwick's motions. Severus the Elder observed his younger self and noticed signs of happiness and contentment; two elements which no longer existed for him. Lily, of course, was as beautiful as ever, her hair resting on her shoulders, her emerald eyes alight with humor. After asking the students to look up the uses of a particular charm, Flitwick began to walk around the class to observe every student's work. Unable to be observed by Flitwick, Lily turned around and wrote something on the wooden barrier before telling Severus something that made him give a throaty laugh.

The scene then changes to an array of scenes which show the same thing; Lily (and eventually Severus) re-inscribing their words, making them bolder. In every new scene, Severus and Lily appear to be slightly older, but no less content. Despite no longer having the memory in his head, Severus basically knew what was to happen next. Just as Severus and Lily leant over to the barrier to re-inscribe their names for the four hundredth time, James, violently green with envy, hexed Severus. The curse just missed Severus and hit a student behind him. The unsuspecting Ravenclaw dropped immediately to the floor. Severus and Lily looked on the corpse of Edwin Brown with looks of horror. Professor Flitwick ran around to the crowd of students and bent down over the deceased body, performing a number of charms before claiming him dead. Enquires immediately went out to identify the murderer (they assume he was murdered however the cause of death was unknown). Severus the Elder watching in anger as James Potter named Severus as the murderer. Separated from everyone, more painfully Lily, Severus spent months in solitude in Spinner's End as his case was being heard in the courts. He was constantly being recalled to the Courts of the Ministry of Magic until eventually he was announced as not guilty. The main point which determined his release were two factors: Lily Evans' alibi and the nature of the corpse. Unlike all other corpses which deteriorate as the time passes, the corpse was glossy and intact, as if it was a wax statue. Although it wasn't as overly traumatic as the death of Lily, this incident had left a dark mark on Severus, who while he went through that ordeal, also lost his father. Furthermore, his name was tainted at school, despite being not guilty, making his school life even harder.

It was later announced by the teachers that the room was not to be used again, in memory of Edwin, who hated Charms.

-/-

The moment Severus had pulled his head out of the pensieve, he was apparated to the Potions' classroom, where there was a lonely Potter.

The pensieve, on the other hand, was left useless. Dumbledore, unable to keep his curiosity at bay, took himself into Severus' memories, finishing as Minerva entered the room.

* * *

_Hey Everyone,_

_I'm sorry that this story has taken me so long to update, however I have tried to make it up to you by making the chapter longer then usual. I am unlikely to post again until Feburary of 2010, and this is explained in my Author's Note in Chapter 19: Official of my other Snape story, BitterSweet._

_I hope that you have all enjoyed the chapter and apologize for the poor structure of this chapter - I will try to fix it later._

_Hope you are all having a brilliant night/day,_

_Love Angela (Missteque)._


	7. Chapter 7

_**My Own, Chapter 7:**_

_**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling therefore do not own the characters etc. etc.**_

**_3rd Person POV:_**

* * *

_Potions Classroom:_

Harry turned around to Severus.

"Professor, could I please use a unicorn hair?" He asked.  
With a nod, Severus went to the storage room. As Severus rummaged around, he didn't complain about doing a favour for Harry – his feelings were, for once, neutral. But perhaps this was because he was too tired to even allow his body to spare the idea of such energetic distaste – anger and hate were rather draining. He climbed the ladder elegantly and found the vial of unicorn hair. Upon coming back down, his descent was less graceful and he attempted to lightly grab a shelf to balance himself but instead, grabbed a book. With a quick muttering of some spell, he was stabilized on the ladder, but he wasn't quick enough to catch the book as it fell. The thud it made was familiar to Severus, and without even looking at it, he knew what it was; the quick skin contact with the rough cover was hard to deny. Reaching the ground, he gently kicked the book under the shelves, deciding to get it later after he handed Potter the unicorn hair. He wasn't in much of a mood for reliving at the moment.

With all ingredients, Harry set off to work as Severus sleepily watched him from his desk. Two stirs right, boil for three minutes and 56 seconds then stir thrice anticlockwise – all was going well, until Harry had accidently added the unicorn's hair before the duck's guts. Smoke bellowed from the cauldron, quickly consuming the room. Severus came rushing over, the movement seeming miraculous given his state.

"What have you done now, Potter?" He asked, though not as harsh as usual. Harry swore and kicked a chair.

"I screwed it up, that's what." He snapped.

What happened next was the beginning, in so many ways, for both Harry and Severus individually as well as together. Rather then exploding at Harry, proving how stupid, arrogant and selfish he is, a typical teenager who can't manage to do anything, Severus just calmly looked into the cauldron and glanced at the instructions before quietly speaking.

"You haven't 'screwed it up'; it'll just take a bit more work to set it right." He explained, taking over the workspace, adding various ingredients. Harry watched, shocked, as Severus helped him. Snape looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"Chop us some wartroot and crush the graphite." Snape ordered, his voice no longer holding the crisp, harsh edge. Harry quickly obeyed, chopping and crushing to perfection while Snape levitated other ingredients from the store room. Eventually, the potion began to turn back to the expected yellow colour and Snape stood back, letting Harry take over without another word. Exhausted beyond belief, Snape retired to his desk.

Once the potion stabilized, Harry walked over to Severus. Severus, who was slumped in the chair, sat upright as Harry approached.

"Thanks for helping Professor; I fear I would have had to do it again otherwise." Harry said sincerely, his eyes feeling dry and tired.

"I feared that too – I'd have to stay here longer!" Severus said, half-joking as Harry returned to his potion and bottled it. Holding out the flask as Snape stood up, Harry was relieved to have finished the second last potion. About to hand it over to Snape, Harry looked at it skeptically before quickly retracting the flask, trying to readjust the cork. He'd hate to hand the potion over in any state less then perfect after all of the effort he put into it.

Snape accepted it and as Harry left the room, he heard Snape do something he never thought him capable of – he chuckled. But I guess that can be expected from a man who has not slept decently in weeks.

With the eventual sleep, dreams came too, and Severus had one of the most detailed, sweet dreams since the separation from Lily. It was an unconventional dream in the sense that it also incorporated some of Snape's memories, some of the happy moments he relived through the Pensieve. For a short time, the hole in his heart was healed and forgotten.

* * *

It was a cold winter's day, the snow falling heavily, the windows fogging up as the energy of the castle was too much for the passive, freezing weather outside. Severus was sitting in the Great Hall as lunch was being served. All of the students were animatedly talking to each other, some in rushed, loud tones, others in hushed whispers. Nonetheless, everybody in the Hall was alight with excitement. Severus had forgotten the golden roasted potatoes, the sweet cranberry sauce. In fact, he forgot just about everything as he gazed, stared, watched Lily on the other side of the hall. She was talking excitedly to her friends, but it wasn't this which captured Severus' attention for the hundredth time this lunch, but the way she laughed – carefree, musical yet unique. Head leaning on one hand, he longingly gazed until Lily swiftly looked at him – as was her routine- catching Severus staring at her. She winked playfully at him and gave him a smile to which he responded with a rare smile of his own. She gave him a little wave, the ring settled nicely on the fourth finger of her left hand, only making Severus feel happier and elated.

* * *

The dream held resemblance for the many sweet things which occurred between Severus and Lily, and his dreams that night were all happy. Yet, when he woke up, he felt something missing - it was her. He supposed he would always feel this way, although the intensity sometimes surprised him. He despised the fact that his life was so controlled, but the hold on him was so deep, so wide, so strong, so intense, that he was forever lost to the cause. Although he hadn't reached the conclusion himself yet, the anger and hate had truly become almost lovers of the past dark decade. It was as though the anger and hate transformed Snape's heart, bathing it, showering it in such cold, bitter indifference that he felt unnerved, stressed, and uncomfortable if he ever left his dark comfortable zone – his dark abyss.

Each time he felt himself ebb towards anything representing life – like self-forgiveness- he recoiled, causing more grief to himself as if he would no longer be Severus if he was no longer miserable. And for each time he snapped back into his familiar, brooding ways, he felt as though he was accepted, himself at ease again – admittedly the recognition of these thoughts would warrant him a permanent fixture at St. Mungo's, but at least in this world which has given him so little, he can understand himself.

So, considering the events in the last few weeks, one could understand his wild mood swings, even if it were not apparent to anybody else. Harry, for example, couldn't understand how Snape was the same person in the day as night for Snape was constantly storming the hallways, a vision of black, unlike his calm self the previous night. It astounded Harry, although admittedly it didn't take much to confuse him on the last day of term; Harry was more detached then ever.

The energetic atmosphere which had been intensifying as the holidays came closer, as a result of the flowing teenage hormones, only made the lethargic and wearied feel even worse. When Harry and Severus entered the Potion's room, they had both entered on at least one point of similarity: both were determined to finish the last potion. Both were exhausted, and both were looking forward to the holidays, each in their own way imagining one night of uninterrupted sleep. Severus' pride began to slacken, his thoughts softened by his dreams.

Harry opened his book and began to organize himself, setting out his cauldron and utensils in the moonlight. Severus peeked over his shoulder to see the potion, then without any further consultation with the textbook, he silently gathered the ingredients. He placed them on the table and watched Harry meticulously prepare them with precision mirroring those of…his parents. Harry was about to put the sliced wartroot into the blue potion, but Snape interrupted.

"Although the book recommends that, I would suggest crushing and drying the wartroot to achieve the texture…" He suggested, giving an example by taking a sample of the wartroot, placing it into the mortar and pestle, and with the hands of a skilled Potions' master, crushing it to liquid before heating it, leaving a fine dust. Harry nodded in response, eagerly prepared to finish the job.

* * *

On the train back to Kings' Cross Station, Harry, in between talks with Hermione and Ron, was miserably thinking of what he had to look forward to. Ron was going back to the Burrow to play Quidditch with the twins and Charlie, who was sure to return from his international expeditions with stories about dragons, their unusual characteristics and even wilder mating techniques. Hermione was set to return to her parents, spend a few days doing Muggle things before setting off with her family for a holiday to Australia. But Harry was destined for hell with the Dursleys – being there is sufferable enough, but there was something about his return this time that made him sure it would be worse than ever – it would be Petunia's 40th birthday. Gloomily, Harry looked out of the window as the trees sped by, a flash of green and brown. He couldn't help but notice the pattern that each holiday is worse than the last.

When the students filed off the Hogwarts Express, the Trio met briefly to say goodbye, their families beside them, except Harry's as the Dursleys distanced themselves, if fooling no one else but themselves that they're normal. Hermione moved away from her trunk and gave Harry a big hug.

"I'll send you owls, but don't worry if you can't reply. I don't want you getting into any trouble on my behalf." Hermione said, releasing Harry and glancing at Ron.  
"Harry, you should come and stay at the Burrow a few days before school begins, so you can have a bit of a holiday!" Ron said, all three chuckling, Ron and Hermione feeling bad for Harry.

"Er, Hermione, you're welcome to come and stay too." Ron said, half turned towards Hermione, an awkward look on his face.

"Sounds like a plan!" Fred piped up has Hermione breathed "I'd love to."

Mrs Weasly joined the group, ushering them all to depart.

"I'll talk to Dumbledore to tell him that you'll be staying with us for the last few days Harry dear. And you too Hermione." Molly said as she walked over to give Hermione, then Harry, a hug.  
"Thank you, I appreciate it." Harry replied, but before Molly could respond, a demanding voice rose from the direction of the Dursleys.

"Harry, hurry up!" Vernon whispered venomously.

"Don't want to stand around these freaks for too long." He whispered as Harry came up to him, Vernon not having the courage to talk any louder. Begrudgingly, Harry towed his trunk and Hedwig's cage, attempting to keep up with the fast pace of the Dursleys'. He tried to keep his head down, trying not to think of people's reaction as the Chosen One hastily followed his distant, rude, Muggle family. He wondered what the Wizarding World would think if they ever discovered Harry's original bedroom- beneath the staircase.

As the ordinary car pulled up in the ordinary drive way, he stared at the little, ordinary house with contempt. He was hurriedly rushed in, the Dursleys not wanting to appear abnormal. Without a word, he went straight to his bedroom upstairs, putting his clothes in his drawers and emptying the contents of his trunk, sure to have his wand tucked away in case of emergency. After a few hours a crude knock sounded at his bedroom door, signalling dinner. In silence, he marched down to consume what little food could be spared for him, a dark contrast to the abundance of food at home – Hogwarts.

Most of Harry's days were spent like this – a silent progression between the bedroom and dining room with a few brief periods watching cartoons on TV and with only several words ever directed at him. This silenced solitude, despite boring him half to death, allowed Harry to recover from his intense past few weeks at school, majority of his time in his room spent sleeping as he attempted to compensate the lost sleep thanks to Snape. His wound began to heal and his strength gradually returned. He also studied a little, although he grew tired and lethargic at a decreasing rate. The holidays crept slowly by for the Chosen One.

As Harry exited his hibernation period, his strength and courage slowly returning, he was personally addressed by his hosting family.

"Now, Harry, I am sure you're aware that it is your Aunt Petunia's birthday in two days, and that we will be hosting the best celebration that this neighbourhood has seen." Vernon said, his eyebrows expanding and contracting according to his varied tone, his arms heavily crossed on his chest as he leaned against the kitchen bench after having cornered Harry in the kitchen. Petunia was sitting down with Dudley, watching a Muggle gardening show, although obviously not paying attention as her face twitched slightly, her head half turned in the direction of the kitchen.

"The next two days will be spent in preparation and as apart of…the family and as a grateful resident you are expected to pull your weight around this place. Your laziness these holidays has not passed unnoticed, and we were generous in not asking anything of you, so we expect full co-operation!" He droned, his hands waving about to help emphasize his words. He obviously forgot the daily duties Harry did. "You got that, boy?"

"Yes, sir. Help when asked, talk when asked, and disappear in between." He replied obediently, no sign of rebelliousness or sarcasm evident – even Snape would be impressed. Harry had learnt his lesson many years ago. Vernon relaxed his arms and looked at his wife from the kitchen, a pleased look on his face.

"Well, good. You can go back to your room now." He dismissed, already leaving the kitchen without glancing back to see whether his orders were carried out. Everybody knew they were. Harry slowly walked back to his room, savouring the exercise of which he was so deprived. He decided to have a shower, feeling a need for the warmth and heat. As he stripped off his clothes, he tenderly examined his wounds: The gash was in the process of becoming a pink scar like flesh, although it was a little bloody, the skin still tender and raw. Madam Pomfrey had carefully poked his ribs back in, but the skin was deeply torn; she warned it would take a lot of time. His torso was covered in yellowish bruises, a sure sign of recovery. The heat of the shower not only made his body glow bright pink, but further highlighted his scar, softening the skin and giving it an eerie, red glow.

After dressing and then drying his hair with a rough ruffle– only making it messier and stick up in multiple directions- he went back to his bedroom to lie down on his bed and read, deciding to ignore Petunia's single call for dinner in favour of sleep. He figured he'd need all of his strength – particularly his patience for the next couple of days.

The following two days were spent scrubbing, cleaning, pruning, furnishing and perfecting the house although it seemed majority of this was done by Harry, and without complaint. He was determined not to give his family any cause of complaint, the determination similar to that against Snape. By the morning of the party, the house was pristine clean and manicured, all completed by the Muggle method. Harry was tempted to charm the house, to clean it magically to save himself the hours of physical labour, but decided against it. Despite being illegal under the law of the Ministry of Magic, the Dursleys would have a fit. While he shifted sponge from one hand to another, he wondered what it'd be like to have a magical family – they would have charmed the house to perfection in minutes, taking their brooms for games of Quidditch in their magically-enlarged backyard in their extra spare time.

But, come to think of it, he didn't mind the physical labour so much. It gave him something to do, and he enjoyed the feeling of achievement.

When Harry crept into the kitchen in his pyjamas, having been woken by Dudley's pounding fist and fake farts, he was confronted by both Petunia and Vernon, who were both dressed in their finest clothes. Petunia stood by her husband, her arms folded. Her dress, although feminine, was plain and bland in its neutral colour, the only exciting sight being the string of cultured pearls around her neck. Vernon's attire was no different to his usual: still a work shirt with a jumper and tie, however, this time he had a sparkling new watch, and a suit neat suit jacket.

"Unfortunately, the neighbours are aware that you have returned from your mental school and so you will have to attend the party for short intervals. Now I don't want to hear anything about you-know-what and I forbid you to talk or show it in any way." Vernon said, before being cut off by Petunia's shrill voice.

"Your conversation should be limited: Talk about the weather, talk about the house."

"If you are asked about school, talk of the strict, effective discipline."

"And the large difference between your grades and Dudley's."

"And how grateful you are to be here." Vernon added. "You got it?"

Harry nodded gloomily in response, deciding he would make a few random appearances before locking himself in his room, preferring not to talk at all.

"And Harry?" Petunia said as Harry was leaving the kitchen. He politely stopped and turned to face his aunt. "As your uncle Vernon will be preoccupied entertaining and hosting guests, I am the guest of honour and Diddikins mingling with relatives and neighbours, that leaves you to serve food and drinks and ensure all is going well."  
Harry groaned aloud. His cooking skills were very limited. Petunia raised her eyebrows expectantly as Vernon questioned harshly: "What is it, boy?"

"Well, you see, I'm not so good at cooking." He admitted, unafraid to stare him in the eye. It was better to admit it now, rather then when it was too late. Petunia uncharacteristically rolled her eyes.

"I will help, daft boy. Despite it being my birthday, I'll still cook the meals, I just need you to serve." She explained. It seemed pretty reasonable.

"Sure then, glad to help." Harry said. Vernon was ecstatic.

"Good, good. Now, go up and dress in your best, most normal set of clothes – the guests arrive at 10am." He said, his words inspiring Petunia to begin to move about. Without another word, Harry went to his room and changed, sure to carry his wand. He carefully grabbed Hedwig's cage.

"Sorry Hedwig – it won't be for long." Harry murmured to Hedwig who seemed slightly restless as he put the cage into his closet, placing more food in the cage before closing the door. It was a precaution Vernon ordered Harry to take, in case any wonderers decided to peek inside the Mad Boy's Room.

10 minutes before the first scheduled arrival, Harry ran downstairs. Petunia, Vernon and Dudley were all standing in predetermined positions.

"Now what are we going to do when they arrive?" Mr Dursley asked, his reciting of plans normal.

"I will encourage them to enter, give a quick tour of the house, then start the entertainment." Petunia recited.

"I will be polite and ask each how they do." Dudley answered with an air of importance. Petunia smiled proudly at him. Everyone then turned to look at Harry expectantly, and Harry felt quite excluded – his attire was rather informal in comparison.

"I will remain silent, serve drinks and food and disappear frequently." Vernon took a step forward, grabbing Harry by his collar.

"Be sure not to mess up like last time." He threatened, letting go then returning to his position by the door. Harry shivered at the thought of what happened last time. As Harry moved into a backroom, Vernon poised himself, Petunia straightened her dress and Dudley finished picking his nose. Thus at 10, the first guest arrived and hence begun Petunia's 40th Birthday Party – the worst party Harry had ever been to.

Obediently, Harry served drinks and food to the guest, trying to keep quite. Conversation with neighbours of the Dursleys was among his lowest priorities. There was only one topic they wanted to talk about – his mental school.

_"So, what is it like?"_  
_"Cousin Dudley told me that you're insane and that you think you can make things move without touching them. He said that you get locked up at school."_  
_"I heard that the kids become criminals once released from that school of yours."_  
_"So nice of the Dursleys to take care of such a mentally incapable boy – it's a true burden which takes true charity."_  
_"Discipline at that school should be tougher as it should in all schools. I remember when I was at school we copped the cane - and you never saw any of us go loopy!"_

For a few moments, Harry would escape to his room, locking the door an allowing Hedwig to fly about the room until he had to re-enter the party. Every time he remerged in the party rooms, he was surprised by the number of people – he hadn't even thought of the Dursleys as being popular – indeed the idea seems absurd. The Dursleys, naturally, took every possible chance to belittle Harry. He took their snide references with forced calmness, each harsh remark he happened to hear only enhancing his end-of-year plan: to transfigure the Dursleys back to their true, pig forms, completing the task Hagrid had set out to do all those years ago.

Harry was suddenly bought back to the current situation as the house full of people seemed to diminish as people exited the doors in neat lines. He should have utilized the time to retreat to his bedroom, but curious, he followed the progression into the front yard. After all, they do say that curiosity killed the cat.

The neighbours gave the Dursleys a wide berth and Harry began to wonder whether Vernon had had a heart attack when he forced his way to the front to see Petunia sitting proudly in a luxury car. He assumed that the gossip spread among the neighbours like wild-fire hence the large crowd. The car was slick and smooth, the cleanliness reflecting the image of the crowd, allowing Harry to see the reaction of the neighbours without turning around. He was embarrassed at his uncle's unabashed parading of his long-accumulated wealth. Looks of awe, jealousy and disbelief pampered Vernon and Petunia's ego and emphasized the car's exclusiveness. The neighbouring families were all middle-classed citizens of Little Whinging who carefully nurtured their money, only ever dreaming of splurging it for a luxury car, making Petunia's gift the most valuable thing in town.

Vernon grabbed Harry who was nearby and told him to bring out the cake while Dudley bought out a table. He cleared his throat to draw the attention away from his pompous purchase (everyone had forgotten Petunia was still in the car and still grinning) and began to talk.  
"To my wonderful wife, a present from me to you to celebrate your 40th birthday!" He said loudly, to the polite applause of their neighbours.

Harry was walking slowly through the crowd which began to reshuffle and disperse a little, the initial interest gone. Petunia started the car to make the exchange official as Harry sat the cake down on the table Dudley had bought out. Dudley tried to move around the precariously positioned table to stand next to his father but tripped in front of Harry. Harry instinctively caught Dudley and despite the struggle with the heavy weight, managed to prevent Dudley's fall. Embarrassed by the scene, the second Dudley stabilized, he pushed Harry as hard as he could away from him – it look as though Harry had tripped.

The second of Dudley's violent aggression had a trailing series of slow, unfolding, unfortunate events. As Harry stepped back his arms were waving about in an attempt to stop the fall and knocked the cake into Vernon's face and torso as he had moved to be by Dudley. But before anybody could realize what had happened, Harry, his fall still unbroken and fast due to the sheer force of Dudley's hateful push, slammed into the car, his back colliding with the once-smooth metal, creating a large dint. Yet, as things were thought to get no worse, in an immeasurably short amount of time, Harry's arm, at the force of the impact, had flung and collided with a loud 'WHAM!" into Petunia's face as she tried to get out of the car, the action to quick to respond to. The blow rendered her unconscious and she fell back into the car. The neighbours looked in horror at scene, a few snickering, repeating the old saying "Pride comes before the fall."

When the crowd's attention shifted from a winded Harry and unconscious Petunia to a shocked Dudley and cake-painted Vernon, Vernon's angry, red cheeks could be seen glowing through the multiple layers of the cake, causing the neighbours to dispatch quickly, and Harry's stomach to roll with fear. Voldemort had nothing on the anger of Vernon Dursley.

* * *

Meanwhile…

As Severus packed his belongings, he made a quick trip to the Potions classroom next door. He grabbed a few ingredients needed for the Wolfsbane Potion he was ordered to provide Lupin, and as he walked out the door, he remembered the fallen book from the previous day. Shifting the phials to one arm, he bent down to pick up the book, careful as he held it: if it were held the wrong way, the spine would fall off.

Severus chuckled as he walked back to his rooms, recalling how his textbook became so damaged. After finally admitting his method of crushing rather then slicing was more effective, Lily needed a way to crush her ingredients. Despite Severus' patient teaching to crush with the blade of the knife, Lily couldn't master it, complaining that the blade was not large enough, and that she was scared of accidently cutting herself.

* * *

While in the middle of brewing Sleepless Slumber, Severus laughed as a frustrated Lily attempted to crush the cuttle stone with her hands. Lily simply glared at him then took his textbook to smash the stone, the gooey blue substance smearing all over the cover.

"Merlin Lily, what are you doing!" Severus exclaimed, bewildered. Lily just looked at him with mocking innocence.

"Crushing Sevvie, like you told me to!" She answered, giggling at his expression. He just frowned and rolled his eyes at her but had not the power or will to mean it.

"You can use my book if you prefer, Sev." She offered as she slammed his book against the stone again, blue goo squirting onto her robes.

"I prefer the more professional method." He replied, crushing his with a certain precision.

"It's much better this way." Lily taunted.

"I don't believe you." He replied indignantly. Lily grabbed the knife from his hands, set it aside then pulled his hands away from his station, placing her textbook in his hands.

"Do it."  
"No."

"Sev…"

"Oh, you're a cruel witch Lily Evans. I don't want to destroy the book!" He excused. Lily squinted her eyes, determined to have him bend to her will. She knew he couldn't resist her. With a sigh, he banged the book against the stone, the blue goo exploding everywhere, hitting Severus on the cheek, Lily on the hair and on the back of the robes of neighbouring tables.

"Unfortunately, I believe I'm still right. This method is useless – majority of the juice is on us or the floor, not perfectly gathered on the chopping board." Severus remarked satisfactorily, moving the book aside in favour of the knife, placing another stone on the board.

"It was more fun though." Lily pointed out, wiping the goo from his cheek before giving him a chaste kiss which was generally unnoticed as students were too enthralled in finding uses for the blue goo to care about what was happening, with the exception of Slughorn who quickly looked away, finding the students sticking goo on each other's robes with sticking charms more amusing.

* * *

Severus' fingers traced the stains left by the cottle stones as well as the many other stones as Lily persisted to use his book. He gently placed the book in his suitcase full of Potion-making utensils and black robes, looking desirably at his rather unworn pyjamas 0 he can't remember the last time he used his dark green flannels.

With one last look at his rooms, Severus apparated to Spinner's End. Despite being early evening, Severus left the bags at the exact spot where he had appeared and went straight upstairs to his bedroom, his pyjamas in hand. Immediately after changing, he got into bed, allowing, finally, sleep to fully consume him.

* * *

_Hey Everyone,_

_I am so sorry that it's taken so long to update - time had truly escaped me, as I am sure it has run by you all. Can you believe we are already half way through the new year? _

_Well, as a sort of make-up for taking so long, I tried to make this chapter double in length (i.e. two chapters). Once I got the rough idea, it was easy to write, only taking a couple of weeks, however editing is always the slowest. I've only been able to edit it once, and as my computer is about to be taken away, I decided that I wanted to post it now rather then later. I'll fix up and repatch everything, as I know it's quite a disjointed chatper, while I also edit the previous chapters for this story. Nonetheless, I hope you've enjoyed it._

_Thank you so much to so, so many of you who continue to send your constant support - there is no feeling better in the world then knowing somebody appreciates and enjoys your work - having said that, please feel free to review! _

_Hope you're all having a wonderful night/day,_

_Love, Angela_

_(Missteque)._


	8. Chapter 8

**_My Own Chatper 8:_**

**_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling therefore do not own the characters, etc. etc._**

**_Warning: There is some description of abuse here, and I shall place a warning before and after - it isn't anything extreme, but if you want to skip it you can do so safetly!_**

**_Thrid Person POV:_**

All of which happened next occurred in a blur to Harry as the overwhelming stress, pain, fear and dread left him unconscious. Vernon stood, fuming silently yet visibly, unable to move until the ambulance arrived, the loud sirens breaking his concentration on murder plots and only infuriating him more: the sirens were sure to be heard through-out Surrey. As paramedics rushed around the unconscious Petunia, Vernon wiped the cake off himself and was glad to see his front lawn empty of people, except for the odd, unimportant neighbour drunkard. Unnoticed by the paramedics, he grabbed Harry, carrying him by the collar of his shirt, hoping he wasn't choking him as he threw Harry into the closet beneath the stairs which had acquired new items since his last visit, further minimizing the already limited space. No, Vernon had bigger and better plans then choking.

Silently, he moved out to the front yard to see Petunia sitting on the driveway and leaning against the car, her hand at her forehead as the paramedics packed to leave. Vernon approached them.

"So?" He asked impatiently, his cheeks still heavily flushed red from anger.

"It seems that she has a slight broken nose and her face will bruise heavily in the next half hour or so, but nothing irreversible." The paramedic replied statistically, nodding goodbye before turning to join his co-workers in the ambulance van. Vernon turned to Petunia and offered her his hand, somewhat roughly pulling her inside the house into the lounge room not wanting to be seen by neighbours. He sat her down before briskly walking to the yard again to find Dudley, who was kicking the flowers in the garden with a soft drink in his hand, rather bored.

"Go and make your mother a cup of tea and sit with her." Vernon ordered in a voice that was neither harsh or praising. Dudley rushed off with no intentions of disobeying his father while he was in such a state. When Dudley moved inside, Vernon retrieved the silvery tarp which previously covered an untarnished car and which was now to hide its large imperfections. The red colouring of his face extended to his neck as he further examined the car, knowing the indent would cost dearly.

After having finished hiding the car from prying neighbor's eyes, Vernon strode inside to see a nervous Petunia running to the kitchen. He followed her into the kitchen, not noticing Dudley as he escaped to his bedroom, and watched as Petunia extinguished a fire in the stove. The fire, however, was no flame compared to the anger which engulfed Vernon Dursley fully, wholly, as when he saw Petunia's face, the smoke clearing as she turned around to see him. Her face had two large purplish bruises covering her cheek and forehead, her nose covered by a large bandage. Without a word, he spun around and walked to the closet under the stairs, reminding himself of the destroyed image of the family, the damaged car, Petunia's injuries and now the burning of his house, all because of one insistent nuisance that was Harry Potter.

* * *

Severus looked down at his left forearm disdainfully, grunting as he lifted himself off his chair to retrieve his mask and robes, being sure to extract certain memories before apparating to the place of calling. Being the first time he's been summoned since 'the revelation', if one could call it that, Severus was naturally already nervous. His nervousness, however, was intensified as he soaked up the sombre mood of appearing Death Eaters, a few of whom had the humility to bow their heads slightly.

The Dark Lord began to walk along the inside of their loosely formed circle, Nangini closely slithering by his side.  
"It seems that the Ministry of Magic is somewhat aware of our infiltration, aware of a certain mission that was rather vital concerning the Department of Mysteries…aware that I'm hunting for the remains of that bloody Prophecy!" Voldemort yelled, his eyes piercing. The one word spoken by the man he hated worst stung Severus' heart dreadfully, yet he could not even change the rate of his heart beat for fear of attracting the attention of the Dark Lord. Nobody wanted to bear witness, let alone be at the receiving end of Voldemort's wrath. Voldemort gave a humorless laugh. "Now the Ministry will double their security on that front, and due to the obvious lack of talent among you all, I will not receive it."

Suddenly, with not a single movement or twitch of a muscle, the Dark Lord uncovered the offending Death Eaters, among them, Lucius Malfoy and Avery.

"Lucius, you have failed me twice on the same project. How merciful should I be?" Voldemort sneered. Lucius' head remained bowed.

"Show no mercy, my lord." He answered. Without a whisper, Lucius' body suddenly contorted and convulsed as he screamed out in absolute agony.

"Tempting Lucius, however, I do have further use of you, despite your lack of success.' He said, subjecting Lucius further to the Cruciatus Curse before halting. He treated the other offending Death Eaters with similar care, until he reached Avery.

"And you, Avery, were the one who truly failed, terminating the mission with your daft stupidity!" Voldemort said, almost calmly, his voice artificially sweet. Avery barely raised his head before Voldemort said. "I am disappointed." while silently casting 'Avada Kedavra.'

The other Death Eaters stood in shock and fright, watching the four Death Eaters twitch and groan, the fifth making no movement at all. Voldemort then turned around and asked specifics from some members, dismissing others, until finally his attention drew to Severus.  
"Severus, what news have you for me?"

Severus bent down on one knee and removed his mask.

"Harry Potter has injured himself." He declared, instantly feeling the expected bombardment against his mind. He carefully guided Voldemort to one particular memory he had taken from Dumbledore of Harry's ungraceful fall. Voldemort pulled back, a slight smirk on his lipless mouth.

"Interesting, but not particularly helpful. Do try harder." Voldemort responded, Crucio'ing Severus. He fell to the floor in pain, but besides a small groan, he refused to emit any other sound. He knew the Dark Lord was angry and needed to take it out on somebody.

After a few minutes, Voldemort became bored and dismissed him, turning to a livid, grinning Bellatrix. As Severus picked himself off the ground and grabbed his mask, he turned to apparate, giving one last glance at the body of his once-school companion Avery before weakly apparating back to Spinner's End.

He limped painfully to his armchair by the fireplace, ripping of his outer robe and throwing his mask to the floor. As he sat down, he raised his wand and lit the fire, allowing the warmth to massage his tense and tortured muscles. He felt almost as exhausted as he had when he made potions with Potter all that time ago. Almost.

* * *

**-Warning: Violence-**

Vernon stomped his way to the closet under the staircase, the anger looking like it was going to give him a heart-attack. Indeed, it could have, had he not been so focused, so intent on revenge. He wrenched the door open and picked up the already battered Harry, dragging his body up the stairs before throwing him into his room. He shut the door quickly and as he turned back to Harry, he began to undo his belt.

"I warned you boy." Vernon said through gritted teeth as Harry scrambled to stand up, grabbing onto his bed for support. Vernon menacingly walked towards Harry as Harry bought out his wand, the tip pointed directly at Vernon. "Don't you dare threaten me! Don't you dare bring that devilish stuff here again!" He yelled as he grabbed Harry's wand while punching him in the gut. Winded for a second time in one day, Harry's grip loosened as Vernon snatched his wand, not hesitating to snap the cursed item in half before throwing it aside. Harry knelt on the floor in horror.

"You bloody bastard!" He screamed.

"What was that?" Vernon pushed, wanting any form of provocation.

"You. Bloody. Bastard." Harry accentuated, his Gryffindor bravery finding strength.  
"I'll teach you!" Vernon yelled, turning Harry around as he beat him with his belt, Harry's blood beginning to seep through his nicest clothes. Before long, his screams, yells and protestations drowned just like Hedwig's hectic noise from within the closet as the whip cracked and Vernon yelled the worst of profanities which would be sure to make Hades blush.

Finally alone and barely breathing, Harry ripped his soaked shirt off and climbed his way torturously onto his bead, having no ability to do anything else.

* * *

**-Violence ended-**

As Severus dozed in the armchair after finally having administered a Healing and Pain potion, the yellow warmth of the fire suddenly changed to a cold green as Dumbledore stepped through into Severus' lounge. Severus' eyes flew open at the different cackling of the flames and the all too familiar tinkling of Dumbledore's various body trinkets and talismans. Shifting in his chair slightly, he observed the Headmaster wearily.

"I know you didn't come here on a purely social visit nor to see how I survived the last meeting. What can I do for you?" He asked somewhat politely as he summoned a chair for Dumbledore. He long ago worked out that a personal visit from the Headmaster meant that he had a new job for him.

"Ever enthusiastic I see Severus!" Dumbledore joked lightly. Albus' expression suddenly turned grim. "Nonetheless, I fear I only have bad news." He announced. Severus sat up in the chair, more alert. "Harry, I fear, has been severely injured and abused by his family." Albus said gently. Severus frowned.

"The Chosen One undoubtedly has over-dramatized his situation Albus in quest for the attention he seems to crave for – I see no connection of this revelation with me." Severus replied, crossing his arms.

"Severus, unfortunately, this is real and I need you to retrieve him and bring him back here. Heal him as much as possible and I'll try to hurry back to help."

"Why me? Why can't you do it?" Severus argued. Albus settled him one of his rarely seen cold glances.

"Because you not only know the family personally and are also the best suited for the job thanks to your superiority in potions, but must I remind you that you also happen to be his f –" Severus stopped Albus' words with a stern scowl and a raised hand.

"Do not speak of such nonsense. I'll do what I must Albus, but don't expect anymore. I see I have no choice. And please try to be prompt." He said. Albus nodded.

"You may know the address – 4 Privet Drive? Make haste." Albus added, turning back into the Floo. Severus grabbed his teaching cloak, grasping his wand firmly as he apparated to a house he thought he'd never see again, yet didn't stray far from his memories.

As he walked up to the front door he noticed, with intense curiosity, the messy state of the front yard, from the splattered pieces of cake to the abandoned streamers and balloons, it was a bad omen, even for Severus who never believed in Divination.

He knocked on the front door loud and clear and heard strange mutterings and sounds, but no body answered the door. Quickly losing his patience, briefly wondering whether it was some stupid prank on Potter's part, he knocked for the second, third and fourth time until Vernon wrenched the door open. He blinked at Severus' unexpected appearance, wearily looking at Severus' attire.

"It is quite rude to leave a guest outside for so long without any explanation." Severus drawled. Vernon gave Severus another look over.

"You freaks are no guests at my house – now get off my property or I will call the police!" Vernon threatened harshly, his voice low yet menacing. He obviously hadn't heard of Professor Snape, Bat of the Dungeons. Said Bat brandished his wand, shoving it into Vernon's protruding belly.

"Fortunately for you, I am only here to see Po – Harry. And what do you think the police could possibly do to harm me, you idiot!" Severus spat as he walked over the threshold, his eyes set in an unnerving scowl. The temporarily speechless Vernon was saved as Petunia came walking in, her arms folded across her chest, her face covered in make-up in an attempt to hide the damage which Severus could clearly see, regardless.

"I thought I heard your drawling voice, Snape, though I never thought I'd see you again after you and Lily - " she commented dryly, knowing too well the pain he continued to suffer. His eyes darkened further.

"Don't you dare speak. Fetch Harry immediately." Severus demanded, his wand still on Vernon's belly.

"Why?" Petunia questioned.

"I have orders from Dumbledore." He replied. Petunia glanced worriedly at Vernon.

"I'm afraid you cannot se him. And it would be appreciated if you hid that stick."  
Vernon clucked in an angry, mad way, shaking his head as he took a step back, actually forcing Snape to take a step back too.

"Did Harry call that Dumbledoor with his owl? I knew I should never have allowed that bird to live." He remarked, more to himself. Severus nearly rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the man, yet his tone made Snape extra weary as he realized, indeed, this was no joke.

"Dursley, if you value yourself at all, you will bring Harry here now or take me to him." Snape threatened. Vernon's anger was overshadowed with fear as he looked at Severus' wand then to Petunia. She also seemed petrified. Taking the brief opportunity, Severus made his way up the stairs swiftly and entered the second room on the right; the stench alone warned him that it was where Harry was as the bloody Gryffindor always managed to be in the middle of trouble. Vernon was right behind Severus as he opened the door but did not attempt to stop him.

Severus' eyes contracted the moment he entered the room, the darkness and stench of blood and sweat the first signs he recognized. He wordlessly cast 'lumos' in less then a second and his stomach rolled slightly as he saw and recognized Potter. He ran back by the door to turn the light on then ran back to Harry who was unconscious. Snape quickly ripped off Harry's shirt to expose the sores, bruising and scars which were silently weeping blood. Knowing he'd need his potion stores and the comfort of safety, Snape delicately lifted Harry into his arms, no longer seeing Potter but Evans as he carried him out of the room which held so many of his own memories.

"I promised I would protect him." He thought as he levitated Harry's trunk. As he passed the banging cupboard he extended the Wingardium Leviosa charm to incorporate Hedwig. When he got downstairs he figured he didn't want to jeopardize Harry's safety any further by apparating with the extra baggage and he decided he'd come back for them. He cast a protective spell over the trunk and Hedwig to prevent the Dursleys from touching it, then, with immeasurable speed, he apparated to Spinner's End.

He quickly placed Harry on a spare bed and sent Dumbledore a hasty patronus before returning to Privet drive, his anger brimming after sifting through his own thoughts. Severus didn't bother with the pleasantries when he once again arrived at the Dursley's as he reasoned such pigs didn't deserve any form of warmth, lest of all from he who rarely offered it. He apparated directly into Li – Harry's room and scanned the room for any other belongings. With extreme anger, he recognized a broken wand in the corner of the room and he gently picked it up, casting a stability charm over it while putting it into his pocket, unable to scrutinize it immediately. He quickly went down the stairs and was picking up Harry's belongings when Petunia and Vernon came marching in.

"What do you think you're doing with Harry?" Petunia asked, her voice laced with annoyance.

"I'm going to heal the damage inflicted by you two. You should both be grateful I'm not going to hex you into the middle of next week." Severus' voice was low and menacing.

"Not only is he destined to save your wretched world and mine, but the boy is an orphan! And yet here you are, needlessly, wrongly, selfishly harming him. Why, you should be glad I don't do something…more permanent." He remarked, a deep frightening scowl on his face as he stared haltingly at Vernon, not even bothering to spare a second for Petunia. He didn't realize the hypocrisy of his words. Not wanting to delay any longer, knowing Harry's precarious state, Severus apparated back to Spinner's End. He gently placed Harry's items down, sure to be gentle with Hedwig, then accio'd a number of potions and bandages he would need to heal Potter.

He quickly walked into the guestroom, sitting down on the bed by Harry. He gently observed the numerous cuts on his bare back and directly applied Dittany to help ensure they wouldn't become scars. He already had a scar to worry about. He then sensitively levitated Harry's body over so he was on his back and he almost blanched at the sight – it wasn't so much the growing lake of blood seeping from his re-opened scar which worried Severus, but rather the black bruising that clouded his torso. It was at that moment that Dumbledore chose to arrive.

"Oh my." Albus exclaimed sadly as he warily glanced over at Harry. "It was as bad as I thought."

"Albus, I need help if we're to maintain him!" Severus barked. Albus nodded.

"Yes, of course." He conceded as he moved closer. While Severus rummaged around to find a blood replenisher Albus scanned Harry's body, noticing the dark bruises.

"It would seem that the internal bleeding from his previous injury has begun again." He remarked as Severus held the blood replenisher near Harry's mouth. "It would render that potion, Severus, rather fatal."

"What do you suggest we do?" Severus asked, albeit angry as he moved off the bed to return the flask to his drawer.

"We'll charm him again to halt the bleeding but I believe that we'll have to resort to bandaging him tightly to slow the bleeding, if the damage is as bad as I fear. Then we'll have to see if anything has damaged his head." Dumbledore recommended. Snape had a snide remark at the ready, that perhaps Potter's head had already been damaged, but he could not bring himself to think something so cruel of Lily's boy, all beaten and bloody before him. Together, they levitated Harry's body while they wrapped him in crisp white bandages, settling him gently on the bed afterwards to observe his head.

"It appears that he has a rather large gash at the back of his head and sever bruising, but nothing life threatening." Dumbledore concluded, his fingers briefly passing Harry's most famous scar, tears welling up in his eyes. Severus did not see the display of affection or the sympathy in Dumbledore's face as his back was turned, too busy concentrating on the potions on the drawer.

"We need to wake him up." Severus said gently as he turned around, having selected a pain-reliever and Dreamless Sleep draught.

"Rennervate." Dumbledore cast, his wand pointed at Harry's chest. Nothing happened for a while; Harry's breathing remained unchanged until eventually his eyes fluttered open, cautiously taking in the profiles of his most hated professor and most beloved Headmaster, Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore. Slowly, as his eyes regained focus, he also began to take in his surroundings, noting the rug on the stone floor and the cream duvet which weighed him to the bed. When one is in such a state, one does note such peculiar things. Eventually, he returned his gaze to Dumbledore, refusing to acknowledge Snape. Dumbledore was staring at him intently.

"Where am I?" He finally asked, his voice hoarse. Albus summoned a glass of water, handing it to Harry. Harry greedily drank the water as Albus began to speak again.

"You are in the residence of Professor Snape, Harry." Dumbledore answered quietly while Harry began to choke, a low groan escaping his lips as he dropped the cup and wrapped his arms around his torso.

"Severus, now." Albus commanded, holding Harry's head up a little as Severus approached the bed, two flasks in hand.

"Open up, Potter." Severus encouraged as he gently put the vial to his lips and poured it down his throat, following suit with the other. Then he carefully levitated Harry back down into a lying position, knowing full well his body would mend quicker at one level; he had been subject to torture too many times to count. As Harry subtly sinked back into unconsciousness as the potions worked to heal him, Albus stood up and was shaking his head gently as he walked out of the room with Severus.

"I'll send for Poppy." Severus suggested. At Albus' nod, a beautiful doe appeared before leaping off with the message. Every time he saw Severus' patronus, Albus couldn't help even a small smile. Severus sat down and gestured for Albus to do the same, sure to position himself so he could keep one eye on Harry's room.

"You didn't tell me that he had internal bleeding before, Albus." Severus stated.

"If you don't recall, I attempted to, but you requested me to stop after the word 'injury' with exclamations of your lack of concern." Albus replied dryly. "But perhaps your lack of concern has changed?" he suggested although knowing full well he wouldn't ever admit to it.

Severus rolled his eyes as he reclined into the chair, his eyes also casually checking into the room.

"No person in the world would be unconcerned with Potter in such a state."

"Even Voldemort."

"Especially the Dark Lord. Naturally, I am concerned that he boy who is destined to save the world is on the brink of death already!"  
Albus looked carefully at Severus and chose not to make a smart remark, for he looked rather worn out. The two men sat comfortably in their armchairs, both grateful for the silence which engulfed them, both listening to Harry's ragged breathing. Albus began shaking his head again.

"The poor boy." He remarked. Severus was saved from agreeing when Madam Pomfrey entered through the Floo. The two men got out of their seats to greet her before taking her into the guest room. While he was still asleep, Poppy examined him, not making a single comment until she was out of the bedroom and back in the living room.

"He is going to need constant attention. The wounds are…reparable, but regardless will take time and effort. I noticed that they were not magical wounds Albus – what happened to him?" Poppy asked in a hushed voice.

"His host family, I am afraid, 'punished' him shall we say, as the result of an accident which he played a big part."  
Poppy gasped. "His family did that?"

"They're certainly not the most humane muggles I've met!" Severus remarked with a faint snort as he remembered Petunia's unloving nature towards all but herself. Severus' focus was, however, bought back to the crux of the issue when Poppy simply stated:

"He's too fragile to move to the Infirmary or St. Mungo's. He'll have to stay here for the night."

Severus just glowered at Dumbledore, wanting him to interject and reply that the brat was more then well enough to move, but as he looked into the sympathetic, apologizing eyes of Dumbledore, he knew he'd already lost the battle.

"Thank you Poppy. You'll be alerted if your assistance is needed." Dumbledore replied politely, although his dismissal wasn't subtle.

"Very well." Poppy answered, drawing herself up before turning to Severus.

"You'll need to administer a blood replenishing potion in the morning at 6.05am. I've already given him the blood clotting potion to ease the internal bleeding and 12 exact hours is the expected safety time." Poppy reminded him. Severus wondered why she felt so compelled to tell him the uses of his own potions. He gave her a polite, submissive nod which in response he received a curt nod from Madam Pomfrey, as did Dumbledore before she exited through the Floo. Severus' arms immediately wound together, folded on his chest, his scowl just as permantly set. He gracefully walked over to one of the few windows, ignoring the dusty condition of the glass and the windowpane as he stared out into the miserable street. Dumbledore sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry Severus, but there is no way." He said quietly, carefully watching Severus' body tense up as he processed the words he knew he'd hear. Then suddenly, he turned around.

"Do you think that the new…development makes it OK for him to stay? Despite what you think about his paternal heritage, I refuse to have that boy – Potter's boy – in my house!" Snape glowered.

"Severus, if not, then because he is your s – "

"Don't even think it!" Severus interrupted harshly, turning back to the window.

"Then because he's your student and you have a duty to protect him." Albus continued, avoiding any mention to the obviously sensitive topic of family.

"You have a duty, too, hence you should take him back!"

"You know how unwise it would be if I did so."

"You know how unwise it would be if I were Summoned!"

"Then perhaps we should take the extra precaution and order a House Elf to stay for the night."

"May as well invite Mister Weasley and Miss Granger, while you're at it." He sneered, the anger rolling off him in waves.

"We could, although I believe that'd be breaching your privacy. Not to mention a breach to your social capabilities." Dumbledore replied. Severus just snorted at the man's poor use of sarcasm. He turned away from the window to face Albus who was lifting himself out of the chair.

"If he were in any fitter state and did not carry my fate in his hands, I'd cast him out to the Knight Bus."

"Severus, perhaps you could make the most of his time here and get to know him?" Dumbledore humbly suggested, knowing his comment to be useless. Severus' eyes dilated and his eyes narrowed as his face darkened with a fiery scowl.

"Get. Out." He ordered in a low, tortured voice. Albus sighed as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Well, I know a dismissal when I see one!" He remarked dryly as he headed towards the Floo.

"It couldn't have been more obvious if I hexed you myself, Albus. Although, I'm sure it couldn't hurt to try." Severus growled. Albus did not respond but instead stepped through the already alight Floo.

With Albus and Poppy gone, Severus felt at quite a loss. He knew he shouldn't have talked to his employer – or friend, for that matter – in such a manner, but the old fool was playing with fire. Sighing, he sat down into his armchair and resigned himself to reading in order to avoid his turmoil of thoughts. He didn't stop reading the same page until one in the morning, when he decided it might be wise to check if Potter was still breathing. Not that he'd care if he wasn't.

As he walked into the room, he drew his robes tighter about himself as he silently approached the bed. He stood, staring at the unconscious boy for an immeasurable amount of time, before gently removing Harry's glasses and placing them on the table side. Little good they would do if they broke.

Actually, without his glasses, Severus could almost forget Harry's father James, with his hair now flat and matted down with sleep. Harry, either due to the removal of his glasses or Severus' intense stare, stirred slightly, resettling his head on the pillow, revealing his prophetic scar. Severus leant forward slightly as his hand extended to Harry's forehead, his cold fingers delicately tracing the scar. But as quickly as the moment had arrived, it left, as Severus remembered what had happened, and suddenly, the innocent scar resembled everything that went wrong in Severus' life. With a low growl he stomped out of the room, his anger and hurt too strong to counter with any amount of sleep, potions or reading.

* * *

_Hello all!_

_Well, it hasn't been OVERLY long since my last update, and I'm proud that I've manage to write as much as I have. I hope you've all enjoyed the chapter. Please read and review, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. And as they say, reviews are love!_

_Angela  
__(Missteque)_


	9. Chapter 9

_**My Own: Chapter 9**_

_**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling therefore do not own any of the characters etc. etc...**_

_**Third Person POV:**_

He spent most of the early morning hours pacing about the old house which creaked and moaned at his every movement. In fact, it was like he established his own route: lounge, bedroom, potion's lab, kitchen, and then back to the lounge. It wasn't until on one of his several loops that he'd heard an odd, strangled squawking. With his wand drawn, he neared the source of noise to recognize Hedwig, rather sullen and skeleton-like in his soiled cage. He simply accio'd some stale bread he stored as a treat for owls and bent down to feed it to the bird. Hedwig stared silently at Severus for a while before caving into the instinct and devouring the few cubes of bread. Severus stood back up and returned his wand to his pocket only to feel something obstructing in the way. Gently, he fished his pocket for the forgotten object as he walked back to his beloved seat at the fire place, only to discover Harry's broken wand.

He pulled his seat closer to the fire to get a better look at the wand. With a sigh of relief, he noticed that the Phoenix feather core was still intact, acting as the only force still keeping the broken pieces of the wand together. Delicately, he got off the chair and placed the wand by the fire, kneeling down beside it as he withdrew his own wand. He muttered a series of complex spells, gently guiding the pieces with his hands as the wand regenerated its magic, the core once again calling in the other pieces for unity. It was a slow process, particularly for Severus, who made sure that each step was completed in perfection in order to ensure the best result. The pieces painstakingly inched closer every hour until finally, at six-seventeen in the morning, the wand looked complete.

Taking no chances, Severus once again cast a protective spell over the wand and was determined to take it to Ollivander's to be sure. By the time he stiffly got off the floor and put the wand away, he was shocked to see the time was six twenty-eight. There was something niggling in the back of his mind about six thirty. Something important. As he searched his short-term memory - which he had temporarily managed to shut off in concentration on the wand - he remembered the Blood-Replenishing potion and Harry Potter. Hurriedly, he ran to his potion cabinet to extract the correct vial and then ran to Harry's room.

"Potter, wake up." Snape ordered, attempting to snap the unconscious and heavily drugged boy into consciousness with the sternness of his voice. He even considered hexing Harry but figured it'd only hurt him more. Not that he'd care, but were it not to mean the boy would have to stay longer. And extending Harry's stay was not what he wanted.

He swiftly walked over to the bed and bent over Harry, his hands wrapping around the boy's shoulders as he shook Harry. Despite not having his glasses on, when his eyes finally fluttered open, he immediately recognized Snape. The black hair, pale face and black, strict robes were enough to alert him although he could not see the greasiness of his hair or long, crooked nose.

"Open up." Snape said once Harry had fully awakened. Harry sat up slightly and winced. The pain, while somewhat dulled, was still there. With Harry half propped against the wall, Severus gently poured the potion down Harry's throat. Harry reached over to put his glasses on after wiping his mouth of the potion. He eyed Severus quizzically as he returned the phial to the desk.

"What potion was that, sir?" Harry asked, his voice unintentionally hoarse with thirst and sleep. Severus smirked as he summoned a glass of water, knowing too well the deadly thirst as a result of a night of consuming either alcohol or potions; it has the same effect in the end.

"Don't worry Potter, I haven't poisoned you. It was a Blood-Replenishing potion. You will undoubtedly begin to feel a little dizzy as your blood reforms. You will also undoubtedly sink into unconsciousness again." Snape answered. Suddenly, Harry's half formed questions regarding why he was in Snape's house and what on earth happened to land him there began to fade rapidly as the said unconsciousness crept up on him. He barely had time to mutter "greasy git" before he was out like a light again, his head falling clumsily against the headboard, his body slumped against the wall. Severus simply levitated Harry back into a horizontal position; Harry's head fell firmly into the pillow, the glasses once again making a nuisance of themselves as they were uncomfortably pressed against Potter's face. Applying the same excuse as the night before, Severus carefully took off Harry's glasses, placing them on the bedside table with a full glass of water.

* * *

When Harry woke up, the only sounds that could be heard were his own breathing. He looked around the room, trying to take in the blurry atmosphere before realizing his glasses were off – he was so sure that he had fallen unconscious with them on. He leant over to the bedside table and was pleasantly shocked by the lack of pain of the small movement. With his glasses on, he gleefully recognized a full glass of water. He swiftly picked the cup up and poured it down his throat, gratefully noting the cool temperature; it was obviously charmed.

Once he sat the glass back down on the bedside table, he once again turned his focus to the inhabitants of the house. He strained to hear something – anything – but failed, even when he held his breath in order to hear his surroundings better. His throat was dry and raw; Harry desired nothing more then to summon another jug full of the cool, soothing water, but when he turned to his bed side table, his wand wasn't there. He always kept it by his bedside table – where else could it be?

But those questions were quickly forgotten as he took a deep breath. Suddenly, as his lungs filled with air, his throat became exposed and the dry walls of his lungs were brushed by the air particles, only making Harry evermore desperate for water. Obviously unable to summon himself water or somebody else to summon water, Harry gently sat up. He wiggled his toes to confirm workable limbs before swinging his bottom half over the edge of the bed and placing his bare feet on the stone floor. Slowly, he lifted himself off the bed. Feeling confident, Harry took small, measured steps towards the door. His skin prickled at the soft touch of fabric as he moved, each limb seeming to beg for more rest as he became hyperaware of the state of his body.

It was a wonder, really, that he made it halfway to the door before his knees gave way similarly to a jelly-leg jinx, creating an echoing 'thump' through-out the residence. For a moment, the loud disturbance of silence was followed once again by the solitary silence and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. But then rushed footsteps could be heard and were getting closer to Harry's room with an increasing speed. Harry cursed himself for his naivety; whether he was held by Dumbledore or Voldemort, neither would leave him alone in a house.

In a bid to get back to the bed, Harry tried to stand up again but could not get any strength back into his legs. Hearing the footsteps get closer, Harry resorted to digging his arms into the crevices of the stone and heaving his body towards the bed, but by then he was too late. The door silently swung open, the silhouette of Severus Snape blocking the door.

"I thought you had more sense then to allow your Gryffindor bravery to control you." Severus remarked as he stepped into the room. "You should have called out."

"I couldn't hear anyone in the house." Harry replied simply, trying to sit up from his awkward, splattered position on the floor. Severus rolled his eyes at the naivety. He watched and _almost_ winced as Harry fell again, flinching in pain.

"Potter, I'll help." Severus put simply in few words. He loathed himself for such an idea, but he couldn't leave him here. He couldn't do something so cruel.  
_Blasted Lily is rubbing off, _he thought as he bent down beside Harry and quickly wrapped his arms around the surprisingly small form. He lifted Harry with as much gentleness as he could muster before dumping him gently on the bed. Harry was simply too shocked for words.

"Close your mouth, Potter. Your impersonation of the fish species is rather an offence to the whole aquatic life." Snape commented quietly. Harry slowly shut his mouth as though it was by his own decision rather then as a result of Snape's words. He wouldn't want to give the man such satisfaction. "How are you…feeling Mister Potter?" Snape asked hesitantly. Harry frowned in concentration. He supposed he felt fine as he hadn't had any immediate pains.

"I'm a bit sore, but fine." He answered truthfully. Snape nodded.

"If you need anything, don't make an idiot of yourself again and call for Dobby. The elf has refused to leave, so he may as well be of some use." Snape informed Harry. "If you need me specifically, Dobby will find me. Do not leave that bed, Potter." Severus warned as he walked out of the room, not giving Harry the chance to respond.

Now that he was finally awake, he wondered what to do. He didn't want to do nothing, for that would lead to thinking which would then lead to remembering Petun- the other day. It was all a bit much for him to take in at one moment; residing with Snape being the icing on the cake.

He decided to write to Ron and Hermione – he could barely remember the last time they'd Owled – and he called for Dobby.  
"Dobby!" Harry summoned in a hushed tone, not wanting to attract any attention from Professor Snape. A little elf appeared right next to his bed.

"Harry Potter is finally awake!" The house elf rejoiced. "What is Master Potter needing?"

"Please bring my parchment and quill, Dobby." Harry asked politely. Dobby's eyes widened a little.

"But sir, Master Snape has forbid you to do anything! Dobby is only here to make sure Harry Potter is safe!" He exclaimed. Harry rolled his eyes. Why is it that house elves are so overly-dramatic?

"I'm hardly going to injure myself writing. Please fetch my parchment and quill." He asked again. Dobby shook his head furiously.

"Harry Potter must sleep!" He retorted. Harry groaned – trust the greasy git to manipulate the house elf! He could just imagine Snape smirking as he gave Dobby the orders on how to care for Harry, convincing the elf that his health depended on sleep. Blasted Slytherin.

Harry considered dismissing Dobby with the insistence he needed nothing and wanted to go to sleep, but he felt the cloud of doom that was endless boredom hover once again. Even so, was he brave enough to confront the man? He figured he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

"Please call Professor Snape in, Dobby."

Dobby's face lit up at the prospect of being able to obey Harry. Bowing, he left the room, only to return a moment later at the door with the man himself.

"What is it Potter? So that you're aware, I am not to be summoned for your petty whims." Snape demanded.

"Why can I not write to my friends? They'll be worried that I haven't contacted them." Harry blurted. So much for his planned speech!

"Do no flatter yourself by thinking that they will want to cry over your wounds."

"I wouldn't want them to, sir, but I reckon I'll go bloody mad if you're the only one I can talk to for who knows how long! Bound to make Merlin himself mad!" Harry retorted hotly, furious at being so controlled. Severus' eyes flashed dangerously.

"Watch your mouth Potter and remember that you are currently under my care."

"Fine. Can I please have my wand?" Harry relented. Snape winced a little – nothing is worse then being wandless.

"I'm afraid your wand is currently…impaired."

"What happened to it!" He exclaimed, raising himself in his bed in haste. Without his wand, he's as good as dead!

"That infernal man that is your uncle snapped it, I believe, but all hope is not yet lost. I have managed to salvage majority of the wand's power, but it will need to be taken to Ollivander's soon to fully recover."

"How is that possible?" Harry asked, thinking back to Ron's wand in second year.

"The Phoenix feather was still mostly intact." Snape replied by way of explanation. Harry simply wanted to cry.

"When will I be able to take it to Ollivander's?" Harry asked in a small voice. He could only hope that the wand – which, due to its uniqueness, had saved Harry's life multiple times – would be able to hold up and function as before, otherwise, Harry thought with fear, Voldemort would have one less barrier to kill Harry. Severus' thoughts were not too far from Harry's.

"Considering the severe importance of your wand, when you are stable enough I will leave you and take the wand to Ollivander myself." Snape announced. Harry just stared at Snape silently while Snape scowled back. No doubt the ungrateful boy believed he would take it to the Dark Lord himself.

"Now, if you have nothing of importance to say, I do have other business to attend to." Snape said, annoyance lacing his words. Harry just shook his head in numb obedience and as Snape swirled on his heel and began to walk away, he felt angry at himself for not forcing something out of Snape. But much to both the shock of Harry and Severus, Snape stopped walking before exiting the room to give Harry at least a small comfort in his impending doom.

"You are permitted to Owl your friends for your duration here, provided they, in all their Gryffindor idiocy, don't attempt to break in to see you and that you use Dobby to deliver your mail instead." Snape said, half turned towards Harry, half turned towards the door. All Harry could do was mutter a small "thanks" to his quickly retreating figure.

Truth was, Severus was angry, and for once, it wasn't about Harry, or Lily, or even himself – well, at least not directly – but at certain members of human kind. He remembered all too well the violence of his childhood, the suppressed screams for mercy, the hidden tears of hurt; the sheer pain. The feeling of worthless and being utterly alone to a degree that is indescribable. Severus can't remember much about himself as a child, except that red haze of pain, magic, and Lily.

So looking at a beaten, bullied Harry did nothing to change Severus' perception of the boy – the bane of his existence – but Severus did sympathize for the Boy-Who-Lived utterly alone, abandoned and friendless, even if it be only temporarily. Why be extra cruel and deprive the boy of the sanity – dare he call it that! – provided by his friends? Merlin knows how much Severus needed Lily when she wasn't there. He couldn't help it if the boy was naturally weak – he would never survive on his own for long, for he's always had someone there for him. The last thing Severus needed was Harry Potter going mad because he was alone.

Some depths of Severus' mind barked at him that such an action didn't need to be so vigorously justified, but with the growing intensity of thoughts, Severus knew that the justification could save him his own sanity by allowing him to ignore the part of himself he hated the most – the emotions.

* * *

Harry wasted no time in contacting Ron and Hermione, immediately calling for Dobby to bring his supplies, but once he had dipped the quill in the ink and poised his hand over the parchment, he stumbled over what to write. The pleasantries were easy:

"How's life at the Burrow?"

"Read any good books lately?"

"Who is the latest victim of Fred and George's experimentation?"

But any form of true conversation came up dead as Harry fought to explain his lack of presence at the Burrow and his current predicament – living with Snape.

* * *

While Harry combated the correct words to write to Ron and Hermione, Severus was in his private lab. It wasn't anything spectacular – nothing that he owned was – but it held a quiet confidence, each cauldron, flask, knife and book having its own space. The room was unnaturally cold, supposedly to help preserve the ingredients, but it also was an extra comfort for Severus, who was never fond of heat.

As he gathered the ingredients for a Blood-Replenishing potion, he thought about Harry's wounds. What on earth could a kid possibly do to deserve such an infliction of hatred? Potter's injuries were unbearable to see, and it still stunned Severus that Dursley – Vernon Dursley, the fat muggle that married into the Evans family when he and Lily were…on better terms, managed to exude so much anger. The sheer brutality for no apparent reason was unfathomable. He has physically suffered worse then Potter countless times, but never had his wand actually been snapped. Had it been, he would have pursued vengeance till death, and yet, Harry was placid. Upset, but not livid. No thirst for revenge. Obviously, he didn't pick up that trait from his father. Severus had been about to think that perhaps it was an attribute of Lily's, but with a pang in his heart he darkly remembered that she, too, had a fiery temper and managed to hold grudges; forgiveness didn't seem to be her strong point, either.

With his mood quickly deteriorating, he stirred the potion four times left, thrice to the right and was about to add a Blood base when a knock echoed from the door. Breaking him from his spiraling thoughts, he looked up at the door and flicked his wand at it, making it suddenly open to reveal a beaming Dobby.

"What is it?" Severus asked as he added the base. A plume of smoke rose out of the cauldron and was absorbed into his hair and clothes.

"Headmaster Dumbledore is here to see Harry Potter and Professor Severus Snape!" Dobby exclaimed, his voice steadily rising with the pleasurable absurdity of it all. Severus scowled. He would hardly call it pleasurable.  
"Invite him to sit in the lounge and offer him a drink before asking him to excuse my absence for the next ten minutes." Severus replied before hastily closing the door with another flick of the wand as he turned back to the potion, not wanting to see the house elf's gleaming face a moment longer.

With the ease of an accomplished Potions Master, Severus managed to bring the potion to a stable stage in seven minutes. Despite finishing early, he decided to spend the extra three minutes in the lab before being forced to be in the company of Dumbledore and the Chosen One. He put one hand through his hair, only to notice an increase in greasiness and that he smelled of smoke. Shrugging, he made for the door. Hygiene was one of the many sacrifices he had to make, just as he was again about to sacrifice his time for the whims of the crazed old man who happened to be his employer and closest friend. Severus didn't even bother to think about how unfair life was, for he was too well acquainted with the motto to even be thinking about it anymore; it was just accepted.

"Good evening, Severus. How are you today?" Albus asked from his chair by the fireplace as Severus stepped into his lounge-room, a scowl hovering on his face.

"Whether the evening is good or not is debatable and depends on whether what the nature of the news you bare is." Severus retorted smartly, settling into his favourite chair opposite Albus, summoning a tea for himself.

"What makes you think I'm here to bring news? Can I not make a social visit?" Albus inquired in an attempt at innocence. Severus just snorted in response.

"Perhaps you are correct about your theory that students are Sorted too young – you'd make a finer Slytherin in comparison to a Gryffindor any day. Now, Headmaster, what is it that you want?" Severus asked, lowering his voice as he leant forward.  
Albus' eyes widened a little at the insult but quickly recovered. He just looked at Severus over his half-moon glasses, his eyes seeming to communicating thousands of apologies as he thought about what he was going to ask of Severus. Severus knew that whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good.

* * *

_Hello everyone :)_

_First up: Many apologies! I didn't realise how long it had been since my last update, otherwise I would have hurried up to post the chapter. Sorry!_

_With this chapter, Harry is obviously begining to heal, but on on a deeper level, Harry and Severus are beginning the journey of learning how to tolerate each other. As ususal, I hope you enjoyed the chapter - please, feel free to send me a private message with questions, and PLEASE REVIEW! There is nothing more thrilling or motivating._

_With love,_  
_Angela _  
_(Missteque)_


	10. Chapter 10

**My Own, Chapter 10:  
**

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, therefore I do not own any of the characters, and considering how many times the plot has been used, probably not even the plot!**

**3rd Person POV:**

* * *

"How is Harry coping?" Albus asked gently.

"He is on the steady road to recovery, although it was probably hindered somewhat after his little stunt today." Snape replied smoothly, unfazed. Dumbledore's games were not unknown to him.

"Severus, I –" Albus began, but was abruptly interrupted by a long hiss from Severus, who was clutching his left arm. Snape swiftly stood up, his cup of tea crashing to the floor and shattering as he made his way to retrieve the Death Eater uniform from a nearby hanger.

"I'm sorry to cut this conversation short, Headmaster, but my other master is calling me." Snape said icily as he donned his personalized mask and death robes.

"I'm not your master." Albus replied softly. Snape just rolled his eyes as he fastened the clasp of the robe.

"Call Poppy to take care of the boy." Snape ordered before he disappeared with the distinct 'pop!' of apparition. Albus let out a shaky breath – now would not be the time to tell. Albus thanked Merlin for the small mercy; only he would know how much Albus wanted to avoid telling Severus…

* * *

Severus apparated into a small, dim room. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, only just making out the silhouette of fellow Death-Eaters against the ancient black wall. He looked around to see the Dark Lord walking towards the centre of the room, his pearly white complexion and red eyes illuminating the room.

"Lumos maxima!" Cried Bellatrix. The charm suddenly flooded the room with a dim light. The room was decked in black, the light only illuminating an endless infinity of dark. A few rustic furniture pieces could be seen, but the obvious centre of the room's attention was the Dark Lord. Severus had to commend the Dark Lord for his most creative use of propaganda – the other Death Eaters where hopelessly in awe.

"You are currently in the dining room of the Lestrange Manor, as the Lestranges kindly host me in their home." The Dark Lord explained. The delighted twinkle in Bellatrix's mad eye made it obvious she could not be happier.  
"I have called you all here to announce that the time for the Final Battle is nearing, my Death Eater brethren. Several projects are near completion which will ensure our survival to be an outcome of the war, yet there are some projects to begin. Severus, have you news on Potter?"  
Weighing his options, he decided to tell the truth…to an extent.

"Potter has been severely injured, from what I gathered from Dumbledore and the Matron Nurse. He has been frequently visited by both members, and so I believe his condition to be critical. When I last saw him, he was barely able to breathe." He surmised, unable to stop the brief flash of bloodied flesh in his mind. Voldemort's eyes visibly lightened, the glowing red startling to see in the dark abyss of the room.

"Perhaps an attack would assist the boy's recovery." One of the younger male Death-Eaters shouted out; a brave if not utterly stupid act, which under normal circumstances would warrant a fatal blow. Even now, Severus struggled to understand the ignorant and stupid.

"What do you say about your brother's suggestion, Severus?"

"Fruitless, as Potter is now protected by members of the Order as well as Dumbledore himself, rather than the disgusting half-life muggle family of his." He spat.

"Ought we to pay a visit to the disgusting creatures? Remove the last familial bond of Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked. Severus seriously considered it for a moment. The deaths of the Dursley's would mean that Harry would have no safe house, unless his father….besides, although the Dursley's were monsters, he couldn't bring himself to kill the last connection to Lily, like he did her.

"I'm afraid, my lord, that it'd be more of a service to Potter rather than not. He hates them, from what I gather." He coolly explained.

"Inform me, then, when Harry is released from the safe house, and keep me updated on his progress. Is there any other news, Severus?"

"No, my Lord. The holidays have rendered my time with Dumbledore short and I'm still not trusted enough by the other Order of the Phoenix members to reside there for any length of time." Severus bowed, the submissive gesture a sign of sorrow.

"Very well, return to your ancestral hovel in Spinner's End." Lord Voldemort casually dismissed. It was perhaps his tone that Severus feared most – it was normal to suffer a blow or four of Crucio, but the Dark Lord must have something brewing in his mind, if he was so distracted. Without further acknowledgment of Severus, Voldemort turned his attention to the other Death Eaters. "Avery, Mulciber, come forward."

Something was brewing, indeed.

* * *

When he returned to his house in Spinner's End, he breathed in a big breath, half wishing he could inhale a noxious gas which would instantly kill him. Death seemed to be so much simpler than life. He slowly took off his Death-Eater robes and flung his mask away with lightning speed, as if it burned him. He walked over to the wardrobe to hang the robes and levitated the mask into a drawer where it would be out of his sight, out of mind. When he turned around, he noticed that the tea cup which he had shattered was repaired to perfection. But what surprised Severus more was the little bag next to the cup, surly no bigger than a fist, with a starry blue material. Severus picked up a note left next to it:

_Severus,_

_In dark times, sometimes a little ray of light can be welcome, no matter the form._

_Albus._

Severus didn't fail to note the emphasis on an equal relationship. He snorted. Next, he turned his attention to the little blue bag which he expected – and was correct in doing so – a collection of lemon drops. He wondered as to whether Albus truly knew he hated the artificial sweets, for it never seemed as though he'd cared. Sceptical, he cautiously took one lolly out of the bag and placed it in his mouth. The sugar, so rich, announced its immediate presence; for a man of fine tastes, one lolly would be more than enough. He was never able to handle such rich foods, but did enjoy the occasional delight. Severus was about to throw the rest of the lemon drops in the fire, convinced he'd at least be entertained to watch the cursed lollies disintegrate, but a groan from the guest room captured his attention.

Passing Hedwig, he considered giving him the lollies before deciding he wasn't so cruel. Instead, he walked into the guest room without preamble and stuck the bag of lemon drops on Harry's bedside table. Harry was shaking his head from side to side, seeming as if the blankets were pinning him to the bed. A little concerned, Severus noted Harry's pink parlour and a few beads of sweat gathering around his temple. Gently, he lifted his hand to Harry's forehead in a gesture which was completely unnecessary – he was a wizard! – yet which felt so natural, to the point that Severus didn't even pick up on the subtle motion to realize its implications. Instead, his wearied mind swore upon the realization Harry was overdue for another dose.

He grumbled as he poured another potion down the boy's throat, about how disruptive and attention-seeking the boy was even in an unconscious state. He also, while he was at it, grumbled and complained that Harry truly was the bane of his existence.

Upon pouring the third potion down the boy's throat, Harry began to splutter, his eyes flying open. That was another thing he hated about the Chosen One. He was the embodiment of the man he hated, yet the eyes – those eyes! – were hers, of the woman he loves. Harry was an oxymoron himself, being the embodiment of the devil and the angel, it made Severus even wilder with hate. To see Harry sitting in his classroom, pompous with arrogance inflated his anger to extraordinary heights, only to be relieved by the severe deduction of points and numerous detentions. Yet, when he looks into the boy's eyes, he is reeling with other emotions that refuse to disappear. Only making him angrier. He hated that this boy so easily affected him, and that he had become the centre of Severus' universe. His only goal in life was to see Harry survive against the Dark Lord.

There was nothing in the life of the aftermath that would tempt him to linger. Life had deserted him for so, so long that he wanted to take the final revenge and desert life himself. Indeed, he would have, 16 years ago. The moment Lily died, to be exact, if it were not for the continued existence of the Boy–Who–Lived. It wasn't out of cowardice that suicide would have been an option, but rather a vengeful, defiant act that he ought not to be ruled by life. In death, he hoped for some solace, but as Harry blinked a few times and attempted to clear his throat, Severus pushed the ideas into the further depths of his mind. Now wasn't the time. As he looked at the boy who continued to splutter, constantly endangering his life as well as those around him, Severus wondered if he could ever slip into the darkness of night, or if the Boy- Who – Lived would always be needed to be saved.

"Professor Snape, how long do you expect me to in bed?" Harry asked, wincing a little at the contact of air on the raw skin in his throat.

"You've had extensive damage, Potter." Snape replied, as though it were answer enough. Harry snorted. That was an understatement. Snape just raised his trademark eyebrow.

"How long am I to stay in your house?" Harry questioned. Snape nearly flinched as he answered "until you're no longer bedridden" with a mouth full of distaste. Really, the irony of it all was just too much. He'd claimed the fates, Merlin and all of his other long-bearded companions to be harsh and cruel before, but with the coldly ironic situation he presently found himself in, cruelty dawned as another meaning altogether. Could it get much worse? The son of his beloved and spawn of his enemy reliant on him to bring the brat back to life. Having killed the child's parents, he must heal the child. As he once lied to protect the child, he continues to lie to protect the child. The life debt he once owed James Potter now to be fulfilled thanks to the child. His child. The Chosen One.

With the sickening realization that his life was truly centred – just as much as his thoughts – around Harry, Severus' scowl intensified, the harsh lines on his face deepening, giving an eerie glamour to his appearance in the half-light offered by Harry's room. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the man's constantly changing emotions. He once wondered whether professors would be different outside of school and in a different context – the idea of McGonagall swinging back a bottle of Ogden's, or, in particular, Snape being less volatile seemed very farfetched.

Snape span on his heel and made to walk out the door.

"What am I supposed to do for all this time?" Harry blurted, rather anguished.

"Rest and make an effort to get better, for the benefit of us all." Snape replied wittily.

"But it might take days!" Harry exclaimed. It certainly seemed that the Greasy Git remained, regardless of being in the dungeons or not.

"Believe it or not, but my world doesn't revolve around you" _Liar! _His mind whispered."I'm not here to entertain nor comfort you but merely assist your healing. I'm not obliged to do anymore."

"Surprisingly enough, Sir, I wasn't referring to you, though given your narcissistic predisposition, I suppose you couldn't be blamed." Harry retorted, so sick of being talked down upon. It wasn't _his _fault that he was injured, nor was it _his_fault that Snape was a poor host. Snape glowered at the meddlesome boy, and Harry knew he was making the situation harder than it needed to be – but what could he do? He was up against Snape, Greasy Git, master of the Scowl, Head of Slytherin – and then it dawned on him. To win over Slytherin bests, one must be a Slytherin…or try as much as is possible. Resolved, Harry dissipated his anger and gave a tired sigh.

"I'm sorry sir. I know I'm a burden and I don't mean to intrude." Harry began, hardly able to keep a straight face from the pure shock that was plastered on Snape's face. "But I hardly believe Professor Dumbledore planned me to go mad due to the insanity of my solitude!" He proclaimed, realizing his own lack of tact immediately. Well, he did say he would _try _to be a Slytherin. Snape's glower disappeared slowly, only leaving a survivable scowl in place.

"I suppose I can supply you with books so as to…keep you from insanity, as you say." Severus said harshly, as though the civil words were treacherous when spoken to Potter. Harry, though happy to be somewhat occupied, was rather worried about Snape's choice of reading – would it be Potion textbooks, or something worse? He had no doubt that Snape would optimize Harry's uncomfortability. Snape had had enough of being in Harry's presence by this point and, without a word, once again spun on his heel and stalked towards the door. Determined to have the last word, Harry said a polite "thank you sir" the moment Severus reached the exit and was convinced the old bat had not heard it – but then Harry could swear Severus snorted!

As expected, it took a number of hours before the books finally arrived. Dobby apparated into the room, a stack of rather large books swaying precariously in his arms. Harry groaned aloud – they were sure to be textbooks! At Harry's groan, Dobby quickened his pace and dumped the stack of books by Harry's bedside table.

"Is Harry Potter in pain?" Dobby asked worriedly, his hands fumbling.

"No, I'm fine Dobby." Harry waved off. With a bow of his pointy head, Dobby disappeared from the room, once again leaving him alone.

Harry simply refused to look at the blasted books, which were large, thick tomes – trust the bastard to twist the knife further in his gut! Harry's once solid Gryffindor stubbornness to abstain from the texts faded as the day wore on, as he quickly grew tired of depicting rather amusing curses to befit Snape – though, not without the unwanted flashbacks of what he dubbed Snape's Worst Memory. Finally, Harry gave in and reached out for one of the several voluminous books. Needless to say, Harry was very shocked to find the book '_Quidditch: When does Sport become and Art?_' Harry was not only shocked that Snape possessed such books, but moreover that he'd actually given Harry something he desired!

* * *

Finally ready to speak to Dumbledore, Severus shoved his head into the Floo only to reappear in the Headmaster's Office.  
"Ready". Was all he said before disappearing back into his own living room, his body whole again. He loathed the undignified manner of head-Floo, but after Patronus, it was the next fastest communication method. Needless to say, his Patronus was reserved for the specialist of occasions.  
Mind, as Severus placed his memories into his pensieve for Dumbledore to watch, dignity didn't really have a place in war.

In his bedroom, while gently flicking through the picture-book on different flying techniques, Harry happily savoured the lemon drops that had appeared on his bedside table.

It had taken the boy long enough, and now that he was able to walk again, he was already making hefty demands. Who was he to tell Severus – demand – to be taken to Ollivander's? Severus involuntarily snorted. The Chosen One would be the answer, the impertinent brat.

Harry had begun to move about the room, his bare feet scratching along the marble surface. Severus watched warily the first day, but after a few hours of standing in the corner, arms crossed and scowl in place, he insisted that, inspiring though it was to watch the Boy-Who-Lived to walk, surprisingly enough, he had plenty else to do. Harry felt relieved at seeing the man go; it had drained much of his strength to stand tall and take steady steps. What he was again surprised about was that Snape had ordered Dobby to keep watch, in the case he was to fall.

Snape had also allowed Dobby to bring Harry some mail from Ron and Hermione, figuring that sooner or later the boy would turn to him for someone to talk to. Severus shook his head in disgust at the idea of sitting down, swapping stories about childhood abuse and comparing scars.

As the holidays began to draw near, Severus was under every sort of pressure. Voldemort had taken the liberty to frequently call upon him, ask his opinion on a matter or two, forcing him to partake in whichever festivities – the Lestranges were bent on practicing their abilities to manoeuvre dead bodies for next Halloween's celebrations – and then give him a painful reminder of his loyalties. Whatever was on the Dark Lord's mind previously was obviously no longer so consuming, as the Dark Lord spent more time than monitoring his followers. Severus had seen the black-skulled tattoo so often; he couldn't fathom how the object once enthralled him.

The Order had been highly agitated, unsure and unaware, constantly calling on Severus for new meetings, projecting far-off ideas; Mad-Eye Moody had even been bold enough – after numerous sips of his whiskey flask – to attack Voldemort now, "before he develops into a real monster".

But, it wasn't the dual work life which was taking the most out of Severus; it was home life. Day by day he watched Harry gain strength, witnessed Lily's stubborn determination to do well. When he saw Harry wince, Severus couldn't help but feel remorse that Harry hadn't the benefit of having Lily to help soothe the scars, the pain. She may have made many more scars on Severus than what he earned through his childhood, but Severus was rather convinced that without her, he wouldn't have had make it to Harry's age. Unwillingly, it was Harry's strength of character which Severus admired. Needless to say, such thoughts had been wreaking havoc on him. Before the incident about … Harry's patronage, Lily and all things relating to her had been hidden, stored, suppressed in his mind. Now, however, he thought of her incessantly, his dreams only a making a harsher reality when he woke up. Severus would dream. Dream of the pleasure of waking up to a mass of red, rose-scented curls. Of eating across from an angel, of conversing with an intellect, of being embraced by a lover. Of being a father. Of being married – all these things, these simple dreams, haunt him each day. And in having them so often, he realized what he was missing so much more.

Yet, the conclusion of the holidays also meant Harry needed to fix his wand. It was a day he most dreaded. He had only ever accompanied Lily to Diagon Alley, the other trips he attended alone. The irony of having to take her child – and potential offspring of his own – without Lily felt far too great. But, like with everything, the matter at hand was much greater than him. The Chosen One would indefinitely need his wand to destroy the Dark Lord. With a heavy sigh and brewing scowl, Severus burst into Harry's room, causing Harry to spill his writing ink all over the bed. While not a bit issue – indeed, the Vanishing charm would work in mere seconds – it only provided more of an excuse for Snape's enflamed temperament.

"Get up and get ready Potter, if you expect to have a wand for school. Meet me in the sitting room in five minutes, or I will leave without you." Severus snapped, before elegantly twirling around to exit the room, his black robes doing the regular swirl. Harry scrambled out of bed, knowing better than to test Snape on a bad day. No Gryffindor would do that.

Chucking a sweater over his t-shirt and attempting to flatten his hair – which has become increasingly malleable in the past few months – Harry briskly walked into the sitting room. He tried to ignore the numbing tingle throughout his limbs, all of which just emphasize the extent of the harm on his physique. Sitting down on the edge of a chair, Harry waited for Snape. He looked around a little, realizing just how little he has seen of the house since the beginning of his stay, a month earlier. Only when escorted to the bathroom or the few occasions to the kitchen had Harry ever left his room. He was always too focused on the returning feeling in his limbs at the time to take notice of anything. Moreover, he always felt that somehow, Snape was watching him. Now, he had the energy to entertain his Gryffindor bravery by observing the room.

It wasn't as sinister as could be imagined for a character like Snape. The furniture was miss-matched in form but of the same colour. The most extraordinary feature of the room was the fireplace, composed of large stones. Harry realized that the fireplaces summed up the feel of the room – simple and earthy, yet strong. A fine contrast to what seemed to Harry to be _the_ most complicated man on earth. He couldn't wait to relay the information to Ron and Hermione to see what they would make of it. Harry was beginning to chuckle when the stark figure of Snape entered the room. Snape was buttoning his cuffs when he looked up at Harry at the sound of the chuckle. A mere raise of the eyebrow indicated his immediate displeasure – the last thing he needed on a day like this was James' laugh.

The silence grew long as Snape finished his buttons, the only sound coming from the cackling fire. Harry felt the need to say something, Snape's obviously blunt silence making him nervous.

"I like this room, Sir." Harry said, well, almost blurted, in his bid to shatter the ice. _Articulate, Harry_! He scolded himself. Snape had to resist the urge of rolling his eyes. Snape just walked over and handed Harry a potion.

"Drink the polyjuice potion quickly and prepare yourself for side-along apparition Potter." Snape said, walking toward Harry and putting a firm hand on his shoulder in a way that seemed almost natural to Harry, like with Sirius, Remus…before he could dwell on the sense of familiarity, his mind and body were warped into the vacuum of earth. Almost as soon as he had disappeared, he appeared on the other side of London. Snape began to immediately move. The sooner this was over, the better it would be.

When Harry began to lag behind, Snape forced himself to slow his pace so that they walked alongside. It was a strange moment for Harry as he usually either followed a livid Snape, or was running away from him. Never had he actually walked the same pace as Snape.

"And just what, Mister Potter, did you expect to find in my living room? Shackles and chains besides the coffin, or maybe a pet bat?" Snape questioned, reeling off his common clichés, his face darkening into a scowl while his voice remained less harsh. Harry looked a little sheepish.

"Not really. They were the things we thought of when we were First and Second years, but not so much after that." Harry explained as they walked towards Ollivander's, cautiously weaving their way through the mass of witches, wizards and toads a like. _Well, at least he's honest_, Snape thought.

"I was expecting a sinister room, dark and moody, filled with portraits of gaunt looking ancestors and - " Harry was cut off by an amused look from Severus.

"What on earth would give you that impression?" Severus said with such a schooled, blank look that Harry couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. With the heart of Gryffindor's lion, he took the plunge.

"You should be able to work that one out for yourself." He retorted with a little chuckle. The man would surely have been joking. Every witch and wizard past, present and future student of Severus Snape labels the man as 'moody, sinister and gaunt'.  
Whether his cheek was well received, Harry would never know as, when he delivered his punch line, they entered a busy Ollivander's. Severus couldn't believe it. Of all days, today Ollivander was run off his feet. So much for being discreet. While Harry was disguised, Ollivander wouldn't be able to help but comment.

"Good day Master Ollivander." Severus greeted. His distinctive baritone hushed the small crowd and immediately captured the attention of Ollivander.

"Good day indeed Professor Snape – can I help you?"

"Yes, I believe you can – I'm here on urgent business. Indeed an appointment for Mister…Murphy here." Severus said, gesturing to Harry's disguised figure. Ollivander's eyes quickly gazed in Harry's direction before turning back to look into Severus' black eyes.

"If you would be so kind as to return in half an hour, Professor." Ollivander suggested. Severus gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before walking out of the cramped store. Harry, despite himself, couldn't help but admire Snape's cool, collected and dignified scene.

Once outside the store, Severus was unsure as to what to do – for Merlin's sake, he hadn't planned for this! He strode into the closest bookshop to look for inspiration. Harry wanted to groan, similarly to when he is forced into a bookstore by Hermione. Trust Snape to have a fetish for books. Lazily, Harry followed Snape in and out of nearly every aisle. Severus couldn't go to his normal book section with the Boy-Who-Lived trailing behind him, so he had to find something else to look at. He walked over to the Magical Creature section to look for some information on the Medicinal properties of a pygmy nail. Harry decided to look at the selection of books and almost surprised himself when '_Hufflepuff Hippogriffs: Loyal_ _Pet"_caught his attention.

Eagerly, he reached for the silver-leather tome. Snape watched from the corner of his eye as Harry gently opened the book. Severus was thankful that the boy at least knew how to respect books. They both dissolved into a few moments of reading – both standing aloof in the middle of the aisle – when Harry's stomach, most loudly and embarrassingly, grumbled. Harry didn't dare hope Snape hadn't heard, when the man could hear the faintest curse from a mile away. Snape swiftly shut the book with a 'thud', expelling an array of dust particles, before turning completely to face Harry. Harry attempted to ignore Snape but the man's presence screamed respect and attention. Unwillingly, Harry looked at Snape, who simply said: "Follow."

Snape strode to the counter, the book about medicinal miracle animals under his arm.

"Are you getting anything?" Snape asked Harry as they neared the counter. Harry looked down at the book in his hands, and stared at the picture of a hippogriff that had feathers of a similar sheen to Buckbeak.

"Yes, Sir." Harry replied. Having no money on him, he'd just ask the manager to put it aside.

"I haven't got all day, whether you'd like to think so or not. Hurry up and place it on the counter." Snape itched to spit 'Potter', but out of his physical form, the character didn't deserve the name. Harry looked a little boggled at Snape's subtle insistence. Almost hesitantly, in case he misinterpreted the Git's motives, he placed the book carefully atop Snape's chosen text.

After paying the fee, Snape marched out of the shop, Harry trying to catch up. Severus winced. Where to get the boy food? Most certainly not the Three Broomsticks or the Hogs Head – too much to relive in one day. But where else? Madame Puddifoots? Over his dead body. He wouldn't have taken Lily to that that Merlin-forsaken love shack, let alone Harry.

But that only left one option, unless he was willing to venture into Knockturn Alley: Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.  
With what was almost a growl, he walked into the store that was disastrously painted in pastels. Snape's scowl only darkened, providing an interesting contrast to the wall paper.

"What do you want?" Snape almost barked. Little toddlers in the store forgot their new ice creams, choosing instead to stare at the scary black wizard. Harry was almost speechless, but managed to spit out something coherent.

"Butterscotch please, Sir." He responded. Snape nodded and stepped forward to the counter.

"One double scoop butterscotch and a single of vanilla." When one was Severus Snape, manners were not necessary. The salesman couldn't believe his eyes – his former professor, in the middle of an ice cream parlour. It was definitely beyond reason.

Ice creams paid, they began to leave the store. _Would this boy always be such a nuisance? _He asked himself as he was faced with the decision of where to eat the blasted sweet. He planned to occupy an outside table hidden in the corner of the property, when he overheard a child and his mother.

"Mummy, Is that You-Know-Who?" A little boy asked, obnoxiously loud.

"No, no sweetheart. The man has a nose, see?" The mother soothed. With another growl, he decided they could eat while walking back to Ollivander's.

Yes, Potter would always be a nuisance.

* * *

When they walked into Ollivander's, the store was completely deserted.

"Hello Severus." Ollivander greeted from behind his counter.

"Good day, Ollivander. I have a bit of an ask of you – my colleague here broke his wand and it's rather vital we restore it."  
Snape tenderly passed on the wand to Ollivander's waiting hands. Ollivander gently placed it on his table, and bent his head down closely to observe.  
When he stood back up, he looked straight at Harry.

"Well, pleased to see you once again, Mister Potter."

* * *

_Hello everyone,_

_Well, it's finally here. This chapter is supposed to be jagged and jumpy, to resemble the range of emotions that both Severus and Harry feel. It's building up, as you can hopefully sense, to a climatic point in their relationship._

I'm so sorry - I hadn't even realized that a year had passed. I feel absolutely horrid, especially as this chapter has been sitting around for months now. To all of you who have been loyal enough to keep reading, thank you for your continued support. Again, I'm horribly sorry!

_Thank you to everyone who has continued to send their support and love about the story - it is constant inspiration for me._

Please, read and review to let me know what you think.

_Thank you again for your continued support,_

Love,  
Angela.


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